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GEMS WITHOUT POLISH 


A STORY 

OF 


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THE COUNTRY WEEK 




ALICE MAY DOUGLAS 

M 


God made the country and man made the town-, 

What wonder, then, that health should most abound 
And least be threatened in the fields and groves. — Cowpey, 

If we could see the air breathed by these poor creatures in their tenements, it 
would show itself to be fouler than the mud of the gutters. — Dr. Willard Parker. 



NEW YORK: HUNT EA TON 
CTNCINNA TI: CRANSTON STOWE 






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Copy rights 1889, by 
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THE AUTHOR 


DEDICATES THIS BOOK LOVINGLY TO THE MANY CONTRIBUTORS TO 

THE COUNTRY WEEK 


AND HOPEFULLY TO ALL WHO INTEND TO BE SUCH. 


X 


PREFACE. 


A fter a careful study of the subject I have 
endeavored to give some idea of the country- 
week ; but no pen can describe the extreme poverty 
in which many of the candidates are found, the great 
joy they experience during their vacation, and the 
almost incredible results of this charity. 

Thanks are due to the officers of the societies that 
engage in this beautiful work, and to many others, 
for gift or loan of back papers and reports on the 
subject, and for much important information fur- 
nished through private correspondence. 

My prayer is that this volume may inspire some 
kind heart to offer a brief rest to the little waifs of 
the city, who, for lack of a breath of country air, are 
dying by hundreds each summer. This is surely a 
very little thing to do in the name of Him who has 
invited us all to his home, not for a week, but for a 
blessed eternity. As we shall roam the “ sweet fields 
of Eden ” they will be the more delightsome because 
we have shared our earthly fields with the weary ones 
of this world ; and perchance we shall there meet 
many who would never have reached those restful 
shores but for the fresh hope gained in our country 
homes when hope had nearly failed. 

Alice May Douglas. 


Bath, Maine, June 28 , 1888 . 


I 


CO NTENTS. 


CHA.PTEE l>A«E 

I. The Lady’s-Delights 11 

II. Plans. 23 

JII. A . Peep at Boston 33 

IV, The Dows [ 53 

V. On the Way 66 

VI. The Dows and the Lovells 77 

VII. The Reception 94 

VIII. In May’s Room 116 

IX. Around the Farm 134 

X. The Babies 149 

XI. Slight Trouble 167 

XII. The Picnic 186 

XIII. A Rainy Day 203 

XIV. A Country Sabbath 216 

XV. Daisy Finds a New Home 231 

XVI. “Let’s Play We Are City People” 247 

XVII. Among the Flowers 263 

XVIII. Going Home 279 

XIX. The Coming Lecturer 285 

XX. A Second Adoption 296 

XXI. Wadsworth Castle 303 

XXII. The House-Warming 322 

XXIII. An Unexpected Change 334 

XXIV. Home 346 

XXV. An Afternoon at the Castle 356 

XXVI. Little Laura Goes Home 379 

Appendix ; 

Fresh-air Societies 396 

Opinions on the Fresh-air Fund 415 

Papers and Societies that Engage in the Fresh-air Work 
for Poor Parties 419 


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“ Do ye hear the children weeping, 0 my brothers, 

Ere the sorrow comes with years ? 

They are leaning their young heads against their mothers — 
And that cannot stop their tears. 

The young lambs are bleating in the meadows. 

The young birds are chirping in the nest, 

The young fawns are playing with the shadows, 

The young flowers are blowing toward the west — 

But the young, young children, 0 my brothers, 

They are weeping bitterly 1 
They are weeping in the play- time of the others. 

In the country of the free. 

“ Go out, children, from the mine and from the city — 

Sing out, children, as the little thrushes do — 

Pluck your handfuls of the meadow cowslips pretty — 

Laugh aloud to feel your fingers let them through.” 

Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 


X 


GEMS WITHOUT POLISH. 


CHAPTEK I. 

THE LADT’S-DELIGHTS. 

“ Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my 
brethren, ye have done it unto me.” 

They were not a ]^lot of garden-flowers, these bright 
Ladj’s-Delights, bnt a group of young ladies from 
three to eighteen years of age. There were just ten 
of them, for they were a Harry Wadsworth Club. 

One pleasant July afternoon they decided to hold 
their meeting in the little grove opposite the church 
in which they generally met. What a pretty picture 
they made, their heads nodding as gracefully as the 
lady’s-delights themselves, while they discussed the 
various ways of lending a hand during the coming 
week. 

May Lovell, the president of the club, a blue-eyed 
girl of seventeen, was sitting under a tree, holding an 
open Bible, from which she had just read aloud the 
Sabbath-school lesson for the following Sunday. She 
was a general favorite with all the girls. 

Perched on a stump was May’s eight-year-old sister 
Beatrice, or Bee, as she was called by reason of her 
small si;5e. No real lady’s-delight ever looked saucier 
or more lovable at the same time than did Bee Lovell 
with her little expressive face. 


12 


Gems Without Polish. 


Babj Bess, May’s tbree-year-old sister, and Estelle 
King, the little daughter of Brown ville’s only pastor, 
were flitting about like butterflies, and gathering 
flowers for the other members of the club. 

Hortense Bankin and Lutie Moorhouse sat with 
their arms around each other. They were called 
“ the twins,” being of the same age and always to- 
gether. Hortense was the only child of a wealthy 
Boston merchant, whose summer residence was at 
Brownville. Lutie was the oldest of six children. 
Her father was a farmer in rather reduced circum- 
stances. The city miss, dressed in a figured lawn and 
wearing her glossy black hair in a tasty coil beneath 
her jaunty white leghorn, presented a striking con- 
trast to the gingham-clad country girl in her brown 
sundown, so unbecoming to her fair complexion. But, 
as their hands clasped — Lu tie’s so large and brown and 
rough, Hortie’s so small and white and soft — there 
was something in their grasp that bridged the chasm 
between wealth and labor. 

Jeanie Murray, the daughter of the country doctor, 
was lying in the grass, watching the clouds that were 
sailing so slowly over the blue expanse above. 

Hattie Dunlap, the eldest of the club, was sitting 
on a mossy ledge that nature had formed into a com- 
fortable sofa. At her feet was a small round stone, 
decorated with festoons of gray moss, which served 
as a hassock. Happening to find her crochet-work 
in her pocket she began work on a dainty piece of 
lace. Hattie was motherless, and for two years she 
had kept house for her father and two young brothers. 
On this same sofa sat Mildred Woolridge, a quiet girl 
of seventeen, with clear-cut features. 


The Lady’s-Delights. 


13 


Mildred’s younger sister, Sadie, was weaving a chain 
of oak-leaves as she leaned against a great oak, whose 
protruding roots formed a unique arm-chair. 

^Tature seemed glad to make this meeting in one 
of “ God’s first temples ” the very pleasantest the 
club had ever enjoyed. The trees cast such refresh- 
ing shade this hot J uly afternoon, the stray sunbeams 
that here and there stole through an opening in the 
thick foliage only made the girls the more apprecia- 
tive of their cool retreat. A breeze was astir, and 
fanned their faces until it tempted them to remove 
their hats and give it a chance to frolic with the curls 
that circled their foreheads. The birds sweetly re- 
sponded to the songs that were sung, and the wild 
fiowers smiled a welcome, as if delighted that their 
haunts had been chosen for such a gathering. IN^o 
wonder May Lovell exclaimed : 

“ O girls, how glad I am to be living in this beau- 
tiful world ! I awake every morning praising God 
because 1 am alive. When I see so much of his 
goodness and beauty every-where I should have to 
love him whether I wanted to or not ; and you may 
believe that I do want to ! ” 

O, there’s the minister ! ” cried Bee, hopping up 
from the stump as if she was a jack-in-the-box. “ I 
was awful naughty this morning, and he’s always 
round when you don’t want to see him.” 

“ Good-afternoon, girls,” said Mr. King. Well, 
well, what a fine place for a meeting ! But why 
shouldn’t lady’s-delights visit the home of their 
cousins, the violets, once in a while 1 Do you know, 
I’ve often wondered why you chose this pleasing 
name for your club.” 


14 


Gems Without Polish. 


After the girls had returned their pastor’s greeting 
May remarked : 

“We are nearly through with our meeting, and if 
you can stop a few minutes we will disclose to you 
some of our secrets — which are as pretty as any that 
the flowers are reported as telling.” 

Mr. King seated himself on the ground and drew 
little Estelle to his side, while May continued in so 
sweet a tone that you would almost imagine one of 
the flowers had found a voice by which to disclose its 
secrets. 

“ Perhaps you remember that we were just the 
Ten Times One is Ten Club until a year ago ; then 
we called ourselves ‘ The Lady’s-Delights,’ and decided 
that the special aim of our society should be twofold : 
we should seek to be perfect ladies at all times and 
places, which we considered the greatest accomplish- 
ment we could have ; and we should try to be pleas- 
ant, or a delight^ to every body, which we considered 
the best way to lend a hand. So by being lady-like 
w^e can’t help being agreeable to others, and vice versa. 
W e have never told this secret before for fear that 
people might think we were polite and pleasant just 
‘ to order,’ whereas our real motive is to make every 
one around us as happy as we can.” 

As May ceased talking Hortense began : 

“We have all planted a bed of lady’s-delights, and 
wear these flowers as badges. I, for one, am tired of 
so much jewelry and finery, and think that God’s own 
flowers are the prettiest ornaments we girls can wear. 
If our flowers were not so withered we’d offer you 
some and make you an honorary member of our 
club.” 


The Lady’s-Delights. 


15 


“ O, thank you I Hereafter I’ll see that my little 
Lady’s-Delight furnishes me with your badge when- 
ever I start out for your meetings. But if your flow- 
ers are wilted your faces are bright enough to make up 
for that. If I did not know that you are a lend-a-hand 
club I should guess it from your countenances. Well, 
Miss Hortense, I don’t see but what it comes as nat- 
ural for you to be a wild flower as if you had always 
lived in the country, as the other girls have.” 

“ Yes, indeed ! ” answered Hortense, with a toss 
of her head ; I am tired of being grown in a society 
hot-house and given too much style, just as certain 
flowers are given too much sunshine to make them 
bloom before their time. I just enjoy being here in 
the fields and woods where I can live and grow nat- 
urally. Country girls seem so much like real people 
that I am proud to be called a country girl. My 
school-mates pitied me because I was going to spend 
my vacation in the ‘dull country,’ while they were at 
the sea-side and mountains with so many nice society 
people. When I told them of the fine times I always 
have here they were quite shocked ; they seem to 
think the country girls haven’t any manner or abil- 
ity. I am going to have you all at my house to a 
party this winter, and show you off.” 

“ O, Hortie, I wish all the city girls were like 
you ! ” said Mildred. 

“ But you country girls misjudge the city girls as 
much as they misjudge you. They all would like you 
as well as I da if they only knew you better. Some- 
times you country girls are so modest that you wont 
get acquainted. You recollect that you were in Bos- 
ton all last winter and never came to see me or sent 


16 


Gems Without Polish. 


me your address that I might call on you. Really it 
was your fault.” 

‘‘And Mildred never speaks of her visit to the 
city even to me, her best friend,” said Hattie ; “ and I 
know that she had as good a time at her aunt’s as we 
shall expect at Hortie’s party ; but Hortie musn’t ex- 
pect us to ‘ show off ’ there, for haven’t we agreed to 
be no more courteous to the rich than we are to the 
poor ? ” 

“ You know that Aunt Mary is a kindergartener, 
and wants to set every body to thinking,” said May, 
“ so she thought it would be a pleasant study for us 
to try to see something new in the lady’s-delights 
every time we look at them, and to copy after them 
as far as possible. At some of our meetings, instead 
of filling our ‘ lend-a-hand box ’ with slips of paper 
telling of the kind deeds we have done through the 
week, we fill it with slips telling of the lessons the 
flowers have taught us.” 

“ The lady’s-delights always ‘ look up and not 
down,’ ” cried Estelle, “ but I don’t, ’cause it aches 
my eyes.” 

“ Their bright faces seem so expressive of hope 
tliat they seem ‘ to look forward and not back,’ ” said 
Hattie. “ Just think of all the flowers that will come 
from their seed to make the world the brighter. Last 
week 1 counted twelve seeds in one pod. I gave them 
to a lady to plant, and if ten of them come up she 
will have quite a flower-bed, a real flower-club. Then 
she is to give their seed to some one^ else to plant, 
and so on. You see the flowers have been preaching 
the ten-times-one-is-ten gospel ever since their creation, 
and I’m glad that people are beginning to preach it too.” 


The Lady's-D blights. 


17 


“ Then tlie lady’s-delights ‘ look out and not in,’ ” 
added Mildred. I used to like the modest violets 
best, that cuddle so closely under their leaves ; but 
now my favorites are the daisies and buttercups, that 
always show their bright faces to those who are hur- 
rying along and can’t stop to hunt for a peep at them. 
I don’t think much of a smile or kind word that you 
have to hunt for.” 

Mildred’s face showed that there was something 
more in her mind that she had not expressed. 

“ But the lady’s-delights don’t ‘ lend a hand,’ ’tause 
they aint dot any to lend,” ventured Bess. 

“ But we have hands to lend, and can pick the flow- 
ers for the sick,” said Jeanie. “ Papa says that my 
flowers do his patients more good than his medi- 
cine. You see, Mr. King, that the lady’s-delights, 
as ’well as their namesakes, live by the Harry Wads- 
worth mottoes. Our badge consists of four of these.” 
Then, holding up her flowers, she continued : “ This 
flower is faith, ‘ look up and not down ; ” this one is 
hope, ‘ look forward and not back ; ’ and these two are 
charity, or love, the greatest of the three graces : ‘ look 
out and not in,’ and ‘ lend a hand.’ ” 

Well, girls, I think you have found a great many 
lessons in your flowers,” exclaimed Mr. King. “How 
long have you been learning them ? ” 

“ Ever since last spring,” answered May. “ Here 
is another beautiful thought : the lady’s-delight seeds 
are often sown in the fall, but we must wait until 
spring or summer for their flowers. So we must also 
wait for the blossoms that will come from the seeds 
of kindness we sow.” 

“Folks plant lady’s-delight seeds any time,” broke 
2 


18 


Gems Without Polish. 


in Bee. ‘‘ They sow ’em in boxes in winter and then 
plant them over again ont-doors. We can do good 
things any time — and I thought that out all alone ! ” 

“ Then lady’s-delight seeds sow themselves,” added 
Hattie. “ Wherever you see one of these flowers 
you may look for others. From this we learn that 
our deeds of kindness will inspire pleasant words and 
acts in the lives of those we meet.” 

“ These flowers will adapt themselves to any soil or 
position,” said Mildred ; so will we adapt ourselves 
to any circumstances. We want our friends to feel 
as free to ask any favor of us as they do to gatlier 
the lady’s-delights that just bloom for otliers. Since 
heart’s-ease is another name for these flowers, our club 
has agreed to ease as many burdened hearts as we 
can.” 

“ If the lady’s-delights are cultivated they will grow 
into beautiful pansies,” said Hortense, ‘‘ and we girls 
are going to try and grow into good women. We 
shall want to have our club then, and call ourselves 
the ‘ Pansies.’ No matter how busy we may be we 
have promised to write to one another, and tell what 
we are doing to brighten the world.” 

“Pansies are for thoughts,” replied Mr. King, 
“ and yon girls who are trying to bring your thoughts 
into captivity for the glory of God will surely make 
thoughtful women. I hope 3^11 will always be like 
the ladj^’s-delights, that are among the first flowers to 
come and the last to go, and are never chilled by a 
touch of cold weather. Always be on hand with 
your smiles and kind words. Never be discouraged 
by a cold reception, which sometimes will come. I 
have greatly enjoyed the little sermon that you and 


The Lady’s-Deligiits. 


19 


llie flowers liave just preached. This is certainly the 
prettiest conversation I ever listened to. The flowers 
seem to whisper as many sweet things to you as to 
the poets.” 

‘‘ O, papa, p’r’aps every body will be poets in 
heaven ! ” exclaimed Estelle. “ But I'd not want to be 
a Mother Goose poet, ’tause she tells wrong stories. A 
cow couldn’t jump over the moon, I know.” 

All laughed at Estelle’s remark, and then May be- 
gan again : 

“We try to be lady-like by using choice language 
and by only talking on pleasant subjects. Two of our 
favorite verses are these : ‘ Evil communications cor- 
rupt good manners,’ and, ‘ Whatsoever things are true, 
whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are 
just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things 
are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report ; if 
there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think 
on these things.’ We can’t help thinking and talking 
on lovely things when the country is so full of 
them.” 

So far the girls had expended their zeal in doing 
good to those who were nearly as happy as them- 
selves. Mr. King coveted it for those who needed 
it more. But this grove seemed so much like the 
place where care and sorrow are unknown that it was 
some time before he could make up his mind to inter- 
rupt this conversation, which the flowers inspired, by 
referring to the suflerings which he wished the girls 
to alleviate. But at last he asked : 

“ Did you ever think of the poor people of our 
cities who never have a chance to see the flowers or 
to hear the birds ? and, saddest of all, some of them ga 


20 Gems Without Polish. 

for years without receiving a single word of kind- 
ness.’’ 

“ How dreadful ! ” exclaimed Jeanie. ‘‘ I wish we 
could do something for them. There’s not a really 
poor family in Brown vi lie for us to help. It doesn’t 
seem hardly fair for the city people to do all the char- 
ity. I wish God liad scattered poor folks round 
more.” 

“May be he wants us to do the scattering; and I 
came to your meeting to propose that you induce 
your parents and friends to entertain some of the poor 
women and children that the good people of Boston 
send to the country every summer. The seeds of 
charity that you sow in this way may bear flowers the 
first season, just as the lady’s-delights do.” 

“ O yes; let’s have some ! ” cried the girls, delighted 
with the idea. 

“ O, how your hearts would ache,” continued Mr. 
King, “ if you who are so well and strong and happy 
could see the pale, puny children, suffering through 
these sweltering July days, trudging up and down the 
streets with their small merchandise or newspapers, 
or shut up in stifling rooms as cash children. How 
you would pity them if you could look into their 
miserable homes, many of which are saddened by 
drunken parents, and see them make out a meal 
on a crust or two of bread, and then lie down on a 
heap of straw or rags for a few hours’ rest during the 
nights, which are as noisy as the days !” 

Could it be possible that at this very time innocent 
little children were thus suffering in a city so near 
as Boston ? As the girls pictured to themselves the 
city courts and lanes, with their wretched tenements 


The Lady’s-Deligiits. 


21 


containing thousands of immortal souls, they thought 
that the fields never seemed so green before, the sky 
so blue, nor the air so refreshing. Such an afternoon 
as this seemed made only for pleasant conversation 
beneath shady trees ; yet how many were passing its 
hours in pain or drudgery ! 

“ Suppose you talk matters over with your parents 
and friends, and appoint an extra meeting to-morrow 
afternoon to see how many we can entertain. If each 
of you can lind a place for one ‘ country- weeker’ we 
shall be sure of ten — ten-times-one-is-ten ; then I will 
try to secure entertainment for others, if necessary. 
Those wlio require board for their country-weekers 
will receive four dollars for ten days, the length of 
tlie visit usually given to each. I think we had bet- 
ter have our company in about a week. I received 
the circular asking me to find places for these people 
some time ago, but I have been away from home so 
much I could not attend to it before. The country- 
week from which our guests will come is con^iected 
with ilie Boston Young Men’s Christian Union. This 
country week consists of ten days — three days of 
grace, you see.” 

P’r’aps God would have put ten days in every 
week if he had thought folks would use more of their 
time for poor people,” remarked little Estelle. 

“ I would like to have the extra meeting at my 
home,” said May. ‘‘ Perhaps Aunt Mary can help us 
in this work.” 

“ I know that we can have some at our house,” ex- 
claimed Jeanie. 

“And I will share my bed with one little girl,” 
added Hattie. 


22 


Gems AVithout Polish. 


“ I will take one of tliose poor shop-girls if I have 
to sleep on the hay-mow,” said Mildred, witli a deter- 
mined air. It seems a pity for people to die for the 
want of pure air when we liave so much of it here.” 

“ But we have not yet chosen our Bible verse,” said 
May. Will you please suggest one, Mr. King ? ” 

“ Suppose you take this verse, and keep it in mind 
during the stay of your guests : ‘ Inasmuch as ye have 
done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, 
ye have done it unto me.’ And don’t forget to ask 
your friends to entertain the country-weekers ‘ in His 
name.’ ” 

“ I do thank you so much for that verse,” said May, 
after all had repeated it. “ I love these poor people, 
even before I see them, when I think that Jesus loves 
them ; and isn’t it nice that we can entertain them in 
his place ! Don’t you suppose every country home 
would be opened to Jesus if he was spending these 
hot days in a crowded city tenement ? ” 

“ I believe tliat’s just where he would be,” said 
Jeanie, “if he was living in this world. How much 
brighter lie would make tliose miserable places, and 
how many of the poor people he would send to the 
country ! ” 

“And never think of going there himself,” added 
May, “ any more than mother thinks of going to cer- 
tain places to have a good time, but sends us children 
in her place, because she loves us so much.” 


Plans. 


23 


CHAPTER IL 

PLANS. 

On the following afternoon the Lady’s Delights had 
assembled at May’s., Mrs. Lovell, Miss Mary Lovell 
(whose summer home was wdth her brother), and Mr. 
and Mrs. King, were also present. 

“ Well, girls, have you any good news to report ?” 
asked Mr. King. 

a We’ve all had fine luck,” answered Hortense. 
“ Mamma says we can have a mother and baby. Just 
think — a baby at our house for a whole week ! I’m 
just delighted ! And mamma will pay the board of 
two to stop with Mrs. Coit, who does our washing. 
She needs the money toward sending her little blind 
grandchild to the city for medical treatment. Mamma 
thinks it is best to let poor people do all they can for 
themselves, else she would have offered to pay the 
child’s expenses.” 

A good beginning, surely,” said Mr. King, writing 
down the names in his note-book. ‘‘ Who next ?” 

“We would like two at our house,” said Lntie 
Moorhouse, “ but we can’t afford to take them with- 
out pay. Mother says I can have the board for a 
new dress, which I will have to go without unless I 
get it this way.” 

“ That’s good,” answered Mr. King. “ I believe 
it’s as much of a charity to take what you need as to 


24 Gems Without Polish. 

give wliat another needs. We are to have two at our 
house also.” 

‘‘ Papa says that we can have two,” cried Jeanie, 
“ and if they need any other medicine than good food 
and fresh air he will attend them.” 

‘‘ Mother told Sadie and me that we might take 
two little girls,” said Mildred, ‘‘ but we must give 
all our time to them and do the extra work.” 

‘‘ I want a boy and a girl,” remarked Hattie Dun- 
lap. I am going to give up my intended visit to 
Aunt Lottie’s on their account.” 

‘‘ Two for us, too ! ” exclaimed Bee ; ‘‘ a boy for my 
company, and a girl for May’s. I asked mamma if 
we couldn’t have jelly every day when they came, and 
she said she’d got to save most of it for the minister 
and other company ; and I said you’d just as soon have 
apple-sauce ; now wouldn’t you, Mr. King ? When 
I told her that we were taking our company in the 
place of Jesus, and she’d certainly give tlie Lord the 
best she had every meal, if he came, why, she said 
our company could eat up all the jelly if they wanted 
to ; and I’m just going to help them, I am.” 

Mrs. Lovell was greatly mortified by this remark, 
but before she could speak May exclaimed : 

‘‘We must now give the names of those outside 
our homes who are to take some of the country- 
weekers. We went to every house in the neighbor- 
hood this forenoon. Some thought we had got into 
queer business, and proposed that we invite the police 
with the children; but we believe that if we are 
kind and polite to these little ones the very roughest 
of them will give us no trouble. Mrs. Bolton refused 
to take any one until I asked her ‘in His name.’ 


Plans. 


25 


Then she concluded to take two ; for she said that if 
Jesus should eat from her scanty board he would in- 
crease the loaves and fishes, and why wouldn’t he do 
just the same in the case of those who came in his 
place? And Jeanie promised to help the increase 
by contributing some vegetables from her father’s 
garden.” 

“They want two boys at Mrs. Andrews’s, and 
Mrs. Dickinson will take a woman and child,” said 
Lutie. “ She told me she was just hungry for com- 
pany. Her husband wont let her folks come to see 
her because they were opposed to the marriage ; but 
he doesn’t care how many strangers come — so he told 
us girls, after we had talked with him a long time.” 

Mr. King smiled. For two years he had tried his 
best, but to no purpose, to induce Mr. Dickinson to 
open liis house to a church sociable. He now made 
up his mind to make greater use of the young people 
in his work. 

“ Miss Haines will take one girl,” added Sadie. 
“Isn’t she good! 1 am going to do less whispering 
in school next time, to pay her back. O yes, and 
Mrs. Parker will take two boys, and Mrs. Jones will 
take one of the sick babies— its mother too, of course. 
We met with a great deal of opposition at some of 
the houses. One lady said tliat we wanted to turn 
every house into a poor-house or charitable institution. 
But we wont talk of that now. What shall we do 
with our company ? ” 

“Treat them as if they were your cousins and 
aunts,” replied Mr. King. “Estelle once asked, 
‘What’s the good of having cousins if they don’t 
come to see you?’ She thinks visiting is tlieir only 


26 . Gems Without Polish. 

occupation. The twofold aim of your club is just 
what these poor people are starving for. JSTot half 
of them are even treated with common courtesy, to 
say nothing of kindness. I once met a ragged little 
fellow whose face was so bright that I asked what 
made him so happy, and he answered that a certain 
doctor had just spoken to him. Show these people 
that you have good manners, wdiich a great man has 
told us is ‘ the happy way of doing things,’ and you 
will surely cheer them up.” 

I want some real live company,” cried Bee, who 
had been remarkably quiet during the meeting. 
“ All our company’s half dead. There’s Aunt Sally — 
only she isn’t any body’s aunt — and I have to do all 
her running, and thread her needle and hold her yarn. 
She hasn’t got any live teeth, only make-believe ones, 
and she has to take her head off every night — O, I 
mean her hair. Then old Miss Pepper comes, and 
her ears are deaf. She was afraid the house would 
explode — no, it was the lamp — and she used up all the 
candles we were saving for jack-lanterns ; and I’d no 
need to go to meeting at all, she preached so many 
sermons about my drinking tea, but she drinks two 
cupfuls every time.” 

Beatrice, I shall punish you for speaking so disre- 
spectfully of my company,” said Mrs. Lovell, as soon 
as the little chatterbox gave her a chance to speak. 
‘‘You know the dear old ladies knit your pretty 
stockings, and tell you so many nice stories, and help 
you fill your bank witli pennies.” 

^ “ O no, mamma, they put the pennies in my mite- 

box every single time; and I just believe the little 
heathen s^Dend them all for candy to spoil their teeth. 


Plans. 


27 


I’m only telling the truth. What can I say when 
I mean a thing I can’t say, and want to say 
it ? Tm going to entertain my company, ’cause, when 
mamma has any, I can’t talk only ’bout ten words, 
and I’ve got lots to say. And I mustn’t bother them 
with my scrap-books or tell them I love them, ’cause 
little girls should be seen and not heard. I suppose 
that’s why I have to wear my best dresses to be seen 
pretty, and can’t play mud cakes.” 

Bee’s tongue was as sharp as the sting of a real 
bee, yet she had been much more gentle since the 
older girls had taken her into their ten. They used 
to make her angry just to hear her remarks; but 
when the ten was formed they agreed to give up their 
unjust pastime. 

“Maybe God wanted his little Beatrice to lend a 
hand by waiting on the old ladies,” said Mr. King. 
“ But I do think that children ought to have company 
of their own, to teach them to be thoughtful for the 
comfort of others. They always entertain their 
mothers’ guests in such a whole-souled manner that 
this cold world can’t afford to lose their natural hos- 
pitality. As long as the children are held by the 
chains of ceremony so long will guests be chilled by 
cold receptions. Estelle shall always have her little 
company, as a necessary part of her education. I 
hope you all will try to give your time, your love, 
and yourselves to your guests ; for Octavia Hill has 
told us that the best gift we can give the poor is the 
gift of ourselves.” 

Six young boys who went by the name of Knights 
now appeared on the piazza. Johnnie Lovell carried 
word to the parlor that “the fellers had some good 


28 


Gems Without Polish. 


news to tell,” so the company there decided to re- 
move to the shady veranda, along whose edge sat a 
row of happy country boys. 

Paul Jennings was speaker. 

‘‘ You see we fellers are always in for a good time. 
We’re the Knights because we like to read about the 
knights — Walter Scott, and all the rest of them.” 

“ O, Walter Scott wasn’t a knight; he just wrote 
about them,” cried Philip McBride, a freckle-faced 
lad of fourteen. ‘‘There’s only six of us, but we've 
heard of the ‘ One Thousand and One Knitjhts ’ and so 
we’re going to try and increase our numbers.” 

“If you will allow a correction,” remarked Mr. 
King, “the ‘One Thousand and One Nights’ were 
divisions of time and not men. But what are you 
gallant Knights going to do for our country-weekers ? ” 

“ Paul had a great long speech to make about it,” 
answered Johnnie. “We drilled him on it, and he is 
a real declaimer. We agreed not to interrupt him ; 
but let’s tell every thing at once. We’re tired of 
having three hundred and sixty-live April-fool days in 
the year, and having folks say we’re such plagues; 
so we’ve come here, a committee of the whole, to 
annunciate that we’re going to be just as good gentle- 
men as we can to the folks that are going to be let 
loose here from the city ! ” 

Lutie’s brother Will now interrupted: “And we 
aint going to have our mothers and sisters think we 
are bears and bothers when they have company ; but 
we are going to be as good as candy, and do all their 
errands, and the company’s too^ and play on our 
jews’-harps to amuse them every night.” 

“ 0 you blessed, horrid, splendid boys ! ” exclaimed 


Plans. 29 

Hattie. Didn’t I always tell you that boys were as 
good as girls ? ” 

“Thanks for your offer,” said Aunt Mary. “We 
trust our brave Knights will have many a gay exploit 
with their guests. The best way to have fun is to 
make real good conscientious fun for others.” 

“That’s so,” with emphasis from Frank Bradley, 
the oldest boy of the group. “ And that old brown 
house down near Dunlap’s woods, that we have for 
our castle — we’ve been awful growly when the girls 
got it all cluttered up with their mud cakes; but this 
week they can take full possession of the old thing, 
and we boys will bring them all the sand and dirt 
they want.” 

“And we’ve got folks to take some company, too,” 
cried Paul. “The girls said we could ask some. Sla 
said I could have a feller if I’d behave myself. But 
Philip can’t have any one, because that old Price he 
works for is so stingy. Why he’d mourn if he lost 
an eye- winker — O, 1 did not mean to say that, but I 
did. But if Philip had a father or mother he’d have 
some. Aunt Kate Roberts says if ma can have com- 
pany, why, she can. Two good-looking girls for 
her.*” 

“My mother says she wont have another boy 
round,” said Frank, with a merry twinkle in his eyes, 
“but she will take two girls to kind of get me used 
to treating them tine ; ’long’s I never had any sisters 
round. I’m rather noisy. I wonder how our com- 
pany will look. I told pa if he’d let ’em come I’d 
work every night after they’re gone, to pay for lazing 
round during the country- week.” 

“I wonder what our company’s names will be,” 


30 


Gems Without Polish. 


said Kayrnond Dunlap. ‘‘Jones, Smith, or Brown, I 
suppose. I say ; let’s write down lots of names and 
shake them up in a spice-box, and when we empty 
’em out the one on top will be the name of the chap 
you’re going to have ! ” 

“ Nonsense ! ” cried Paul. “ But you see if we don’t 
just shine up on our manners for the country-weekers ! 
Boys have got as much manners as any one, only they 
get tlieir edges knocked off — the manners do — when 
they get to the tips of our lingers and the ends of 
our tongues. I expect PaymoTid will be professor of 
etiquette some time. Hattie told him he must never 
let a lady carry any thing ; so when he was walking 
liome from meeting with Mrs. Murray, lie wanted to 
carry her muff. She thought his hands were cold 
an5 let him take it, and he thouglit he was very 
polite. Tell you what! The city folks will think 
they are kings and queens when we get to waitin’ 
on ’em.’’ 

“ I think we ought to have an inspection for our 
company,” said Bell. 

“What do yon mean ?” asked Mrs. Lovell. 

“Why, I mean an exce{)tion, reception, or some- 
thing, that they have for presidents and ministers and 
brides to get acquainted. There are good things to 
eat at receptions ; only some of the cake isn’t lit to 
look at, and you had to give it to your pig, and told us 
not to tell ; didn’t you, Mrs. King?” 

The pastor’s wife was somewhat embarrassed by 
this innocent disclosure ; however, she turned it off 
by saying : 

“ Sure enough, girls ; why can’t we welcome our 
guests in this way ? ” 


Plans. 


81 


Every body was in favor of a reception. Where 
should it be given ? The grove, the cliurch, the 
school-house and private dwellings were all pro- 
posed. Then Paul mentioned his fathers new barn, 
which had not yet been used. This place was agreed 
upon, provided Mr. Jennings were willing to have his 
barn' thus christened. Paul went at once to his home, 
which was near. He returned, after a few moments, 
saying that the barn could be used for the purpose 
desired. 

Preparations for the reception began at once. All 
present were authorized to ask every body they knew 
to the festive occasion. Mr. King was to give a 
general invitation from the pulpit on the following 
Sunday. Several committees were chosen. Aunt 
Mary, Mildred, and Hattie were to solicit refresh- 
ments, notwithstanding Bee’s offer to be “the whole 
of the ’freshment committee, ’cause she could tell 
good things by just tasting them.” The children 
who bad “ missionary hens ” offered to furnish eggs for 
the ice-cream. The boys agreed to see that the barn 
was supplied with seats and tables. The girls agreed 
to have it decorated with flowers and evergreen. 

Mr. King went into the house, and wrote to the 
secretary of the country-week. 

Estelle thought that all the Lady’s Delights should 
sign their names to the letter; but her father com- 
promised with her by reading it aloud. 

“ I hope the ’ittle letter wont det lost,” said Bess. 

“Of course it wont,” said Estelle; “isn’t it one of 
God’s letters ? He will look out for it.” 

Before tlie company parted the pastor said, “ Mrs. 
King and I have decided to do what we can do to assist 


32 


Gems Without Polish. 


you girls in entertaining your guests — that is, if such 
a plan is agreeable.’' 

“ Indeed it is,” answered May. 

‘‘ But reineinber we are to do nothing that you young 
people can do,” added Mrs. King. “We shall merely 
help in planning games, in getting up picnics, in sup- 
plying the guests witli reading-matter, and in giving 
the children short lessons about the flowers and birds 
and such things, to draw their minds toward the 
Author of all that is beautiful. Suppose you girls 
try to draw these poor souls to our dear Saviour by 
living hearer than ever to him during their stay.” 

The following week was a busy one at Brownville. 
What pride the girls took in decorating the chambers 
of their coming guests with all sorts of knick-knacks 
that had been laid away for the homes of their own 
which they pictured in the dim future! The boys 
were as handy — well, as handy as girls. They did so 
nicely in keeping out of mischief that their parents 
feared they would be so hungry for fun when the 
company came that their good intentions would be 
of no avail. Bess declared that her doll must have 
a new dress for the occasion, and May sat up late one 
night to make it. Estelle even asked her father to 
have the piano tuned before their guests should arrive. 


A Peep at Boston. 


33 


CHAPTER III. 

A PEEP AT BOSTON. 

“Summer had set in with its usual severity.’’ — C harles Lamb. 

The hot sun is pouring down on one of the lanes 
of Boston, a sneaking, narrow alley, squalid, un- 
paved, and bearing so many local names that it is 
almost impossible to be found by a stranger. But 
few of the windows of the miserable houses have 
either blinds or curtains. Now and then a face ap- 
pears at these windows — pale girls fanning them- 
selves with their ragged api’ons ; sad looking women 
holding sickly babies that are gasping foi* a breath of 
air. Groups of languid men are lounging at the 
door-ways of saloons — buildings as shabby and stag- 
gering as themselves, that seem threatening to fall 
at any moment. Ragged, dirty-faced children, mere 
shadows of humanity, are trudging up and down the 
lane, quarreling, and feasting on half-rotten apples 
which have been thrown away from a neighboring 
grocery. The air is dusty, smoky, and tainted with 
the smell of liquor, tobacco, and decaying vegetable 
matter. The harsh words of the nervous, care-worn 
women, the oaths of the men, the rude tones of the 
children, and the bark of a half-starved dog make the 
spectacle the more offensive. 

Mrs. Sturgis was standing in her little yard hang- 
ing out the third washing she had done that day. 

3 


34 


Gems Without Polish. 


Several dripping garments were hanging from her 
bare arms, which were akimbo. 

“ How's your baby, Mrs. Bold ? ” she asked of the 
little black-eyed woman who stood in one of the door- 
ways of the next tenement. 

“ He managed to pull through the uight, but he’s 
just dying for want of a breath of air. Did you ever 
see such suffocatin’ days ? Doctor says he can’t stand 
many more of ’em. I wish he wouldn’t tell me such 
things. May be I’m selfish, long’s it would be for 
baby’s good to go. I suppose there’s fresh air enough 
for every body in heaven.” 

“ I wouldn’t cry till it happens,” said Mrs. Sturgis, 
soothingly. “But it is hard. I’ve lost two, and I 
know. That baby I’ve got now is a terribly ally child. 
I wish her father would send her into the country for 
a while.” 

“ Well, Charles Foxcroft wont do any thing of the 
kind. What does he care for his children ? But 
you’ve kept the little thing longer than I thought 
you would.” 

“Where would she be if I didn’t look after her? 
My man scolds because I look after other folks’ ba- 
bies, but if my children hadn’t a mother I’d want 
some one to do the same by them. I’ve earned every 
cent that I ever paid out on her, and my Angie takes 
a heap o’ care of her. Yet I don’t think I shall keep 
the little thing through the winter.” 

“ Sally does all the tendin’ of my baby except wdien 
he’s too sick,” said Mrs. Bold. “ This is the first time 
I’ve left his side for two days. He’s asleep now, for 
a wonder. Poor child! he’s all wasted to skin and 
bone, and he’s burning up with fever. It makes me 


A Peep at Boston. 


35 


feel hard toward every body to see him a-sufferin’ so, 
and me a-neglectin’ him so all day to wash dresses 
for other folks’ babies. I’m not so bad off as Mrs. 
Jenks, however. She has to go out scrubbin’ office- 
floors, and leaves lier two-rnonths-old baby with that 
l]igh-flier of a Kate. But my Sally is real careful 
with children, she is.” 

“ Did you know that one of Mrs. Burns’s twins 
died last night?” asked Mrs. Sturgis. “I told her 
she ought to take a child as sick as hers out of the 
city for a few days ; but she hadn’t the money, so it 
had to die. Mrs. Pinkham told me she heard Mrs. 
Burns’s landlord happened round this mornin’, and he 
said there’d be one less young one to stave up his 
house ! I can remember the time when people had 
hearts, but them things don’t seem to be the fashion 
nowdays. I pity Mrs. Burns, I do. I used to say 
’twas a good thing to have the summer come and take 
the babies ’out of this horrid, stingy world, but I 
changed my mind after my Hattie died. Poor little 
thing ! I missed her so much.” 

Good-afternoon ! I hope your child’s better, Mrs. 
Bold.” 

The speaker was a pleasant-faced elderly lady who 
liad just come down the lane. 

O, good-morning, Mrs. Bochester ! No, baby is 
not any better. Poor dear ! ” 

“ The lady I sew for has a baby as sick as yours,” 
continued Mrs. Bochester. ‘‘ I’ve just come from her 
house, and she’s , getting ready to take it to the sea- 
shore.” 

“ That’s where my child ought to go. If I had all 
the money that folks owe me I could take baby down 


36 


Gems Without Polish. 


East for a week or so. I say it’s mean for these rich 
people to he so grinding on us poor.” 

“ But it’s just carelessness on their part,” said Mrs. 
Bochester. They don't think. Then they don’t get 
draij^ed throu£:h so much trouble and sickness as we 
do, and they don’t have to eat and sleep in the 
same rooms where they cook these hot days. Many 
of them don’t spend a single summer in Boston ; they 
go to the sea-shore, and don’t know what heat is.” 

“ I can’t think as you do,” said Mrs. Sturgis. 
‘‘ Think of those people who have cool rooms to sit 
in and as many as five curtains or lambrequins, or 
what else you call them, at every window to keep out 
the sun, and nothing to do but to ’fan themselves and 
to drink ice-water. I say, what do they need to go to 
the country for? It’s we women who do their scrub- 
bin’ and live in such hot-beds that need a vacation.” 

‘‘Four of the families that I wash for have 
gone off for two or three months,” said Mrs. Boid. 
“ I don’t see how I can get througli the summer, for 
I always depended on their pay for rent. Our land- 
lord is always uglier in summer, when he is sweating 
with the heat, than he is in winter, when he’s huddled 
round a warm fire in his cozy office, and he wont 
trust us now for even a week’s rent. I dread the sum- 
mers worse than the winters, for there is some work 
in the winter, and the cold doesn’t make you so sick 
as the heat does. School is out in summer, and you 
don’t know what mischief your children are in. One 
of the churches that used to help me along is shut up, 
and the minister and his people are out of town. It’s 
a great deal harder to get food in summer than it is 
ill winter.” 


A Peep at Boston. 


37 


‘‘ The Lord has always provided for me at all sea- 
sons,” remarked Mrs. Bochester. “ And I never 
mind the heat much ; hasn’t he said, ‘ The snn shall 
not smite thee by day ? ’ ” 

‘‘He said that for Christians like you,” replied 
Mrs. Boid. “But I don’t have faith in any thing 
like that ; it hardens me to see how rich people cheat 
me out of my honest wages. They seem to think 
poor people can live on air in the summer.” 

“Air! Do you call this stuff air?” asked Mrs. 
Sturgis, snuffing up her nose. “Air! Well, I wish 
they could get a sniff of this hot smelling stuff. 
Pretty poor living ! ” 

“But well-to-do people get plenty of sweet country 
air on their vacations. I wish that my little Laura 
might have a little of it too. As long as she can’t 
see any thing that’s pretty, she ought to be where 
she could at least smell the country and hear the 
birds sing. I wish the poor child could have some of 
the nice berries that are growing in the country and 
doing nobody any good. I’d buy her some if I could 
afford to, but folks don’t have much sewing done in 
summer, so there’s little chance for me to work 
button-holes, and that’s all an old lady seventy years 
old can do.” 

“Poor little blind Laura!” exclaimed Mrs. Boid. 
“ But sometimes I think she is the happiest person I 
ever saw. O, there’s my husband a-coming.” 

The little woman hurried into the house. She was 
soon followed by a ragged, thickset man, staggering, 
gesticulating, and making hideous noises. The intoxi- 
cated father had awakened his child from its much- 
needed sleep. 


38 


Gems Without Polish. 


Mrs. Kocliester moved on, and Mrs. Sturgis, hav- 
ing finished hanging out her clothes, went into lier 
house to begin another washing. 

On the opposite side of tlie alley a group of boys 
had gathered around a large dry-goods box, which the 
Kellet family had left in their narrow yard to be 
used in moving when their next quarter’s rent should 
be due. 

“Look here, Ben,” began Jack Snow, a freckle- 
faced lad of fourteen. “Pve jest ’scovered why you 
go so ragged. You’re a sort of an advertisement of 
your father’s junk store. Hey ! ” 

“ Ha, ha ! ” laughed Ben Gray, with his usual good- 
humor. “ I wish we fellers could wear kalikei’ clothes 
like the girls do. It seems as if I was in an oven to 
be in this tldck jacket. But I have to wear it of — of 
necessity ; ’cause when inarm washed my shirt t’other 
day it all went to nothing, ’twas so ragged. But 
what a little pickle you are to stand that cap of yourn, 
Shortie ! ” 

Ernest Harlow, the boy addressed, took off his cap, 
ran both hands through his thick hair, that was 
dripping with perspiration, and curling in many a 
spiteful ringlet, then exclaimed : 

“Gracious! I just have to wear this to keep the 
sun from sun-striking my head, but the truth of the 
matter is, ’tis all the straw hat I’ve got. My ! Isn’t 
this the hottest day you ever saw ? I’d like a swim 
or a drink o’ beer. Mother don’t like it when I take 
a smile, but I’d sooner think o’ gettin’ drunk on that 
nasty water we have than on any thing else. I’m 
thirsty as a dried-up pond. Fork over your chink, 
fellers, and let’s have a treat.” 


A Peep at Boston. 


39 


“Pm all dried up on chink,” answered Ned Gray, 
Ben’s older brother, as he thrust liis hands through 
his bottomless pockets. “ It took all my capital to 
take Sally Bold to the entertainment last night. Ten 
cents a piece for tickets and five cents for peanuts to 
eat between the pieces.” 

Pm bankrupt, too,” cried Ira Tenney, a little eight- 
year-old, whose short brown pants were fastened to his 
pink calico waist by large safety pins. “ It’s pretty 
hard times, now, it is. Where I used to have a quar- 
ter of a dollar left every day after I’d paid ex- 
penses and every thing, I don’t have a cent now. 
Folks that usually "buy peanuts are in the country. 
Wish I was there, too, with my peanut stand. Noth- 
ing to do — now and here — but to drink, as Shortie 
thinks. He wants to have us pay for his luxuries; 
well, I guess not ! ” 

Don’t, neither !” cried Ernest. But say, fellers, 
did you see that Pitkin yesterday? He was drunker 
than a rum-bottle. He kept asking every body he 
saw, ‘Be I drunk, or be I not drunk?’ I couldn’t 
help laughing at the crank ; but, tell you wdiat, 
this getting drunk is a bad business. But Pitkin’s 
father was a rich man — real good too, so I’ve heard. 
I s’pose he wa’n’t used to seeing drunk rows when he 
was a boy, and his father didn’t warn him. Why, he 
was so nigh gone yesterday he didn’t have sense 
enough to light his pipe ; he couldn’t get the match 
into the bowl of his pipe. It was bound to go for his 
nose. I feared he’d set that afire ’twas so red. At 
last he asked his little girl to light his pipe, and she 
did. But, tell you what, aint this a roasting day! 
To think Pm in this burnt-up city when I might be 


40 


Gems Without Polish. 


on the piazza o’ my summer-house at the sea-shore, 
with the sea breezes a-blowing my hat off my liead 
this very minute ! ” 

Aint you ’maginary, though ! ” said Jack. And 
there’s my farm up country; why aint 1 there? 
Ha-ha ! ” 

“ And my cottage up among the mountains is lying 
vacant, too,” remarked Hed. 

“Well, Pm tired of this hot weather,” said Jack. 
“ I told marm she’d better bring the ’taters out on the 
sidewalk to roast ’em, and save building a tire. Ha- 
ha ! But Pm in for us newsboys having a strike. 
We have to work harder to sell papers in summer 
than in winter, and ought to have liigher wages. 
Most of my customers have gone off for tlie vacation ; 
those that aint gone are so mad they are here that 
they’re cross as a bear if you ask ’em to buy a paper. 
Maybe they don’t want any thing as ’bustible as pa- 
per round ’em for fear ’twill be sort of kindling and 
the sun will set ’em afire. Talk of hard times! why, 
the hardest times is in the news market. Hothing in 
the papers but the names of folks that have gone out 
of the city and those that haven’t gone. If it wasn’t 
wdcked I’d wish some famine or earthquake w^ould 
happen, or some poet or crank would die. Then pa- 
pers might sell. I’d go out of the newspaper business 
if I w^asn’t so old. I’ve walked two miles to-day, in 
all the heat, and only sold five papers.” 

As Jack ceased talking he began to count the 
formidable pile of papers which he had been unable 
to sell. 

“ But I’ve got the stickiest business of any of you,” 
exclaimed Fred Stanwood. And this little bootblack 


A Peep at Boston. 


41 


ran Lis brush over some of the bare feet that were 
dangling over the side of the box. 

‘‘Here! What are you giving us?” cried Hed. 
“ Isn’t it bad enough to liave the flesh baked to your 
bones without liaving blacking baked to your skin ? 
Stop it, I say.” 

“Ho! can’t you take a joke? I’s only funning — 
sort of exercising, so as not to forget how to give a 
shine. The dudes have all gone to spend vacation at 
the sea-shore or their relations’, and other folks don’t 
patronize bootblacks much, ’specially when there’s 
such a sight of ‘ country blacking ’ round. What’s 
the use of blacking your shoes, then have ’em as dusty 
as the street the next moment ? But the greatest sell 
is that Bill Smith, who was round selling matches 
this morning. I should think you might light any 
stick on this box ! But couldn’t we make our fortune 
a-selling ice- water? You could sell it, most anywhere 
for eight cents a glass, I’m thinking. That Burns 
feller that’s in a clothing-store put up the sign out- 
side, Ice-cream for sale here. Didn’t that draw the 
folks in last week! There wasn’t no cream for ’em, 
but there was straw-hats — and they bought ’em, too.” 

“Didn’t I have the boss water to drink when I was 
in the country last year ! ” exclaimed Ernest, smacking 
his lips. “ ’Twas better than ice-water; ’twas spring- 
water. The man that I’m messenger for has some- 
thing to do with the country-week consarn, so he let 
me go to the farm and kept my pay running just the 
same. But I’ve paid him back, I have. Ho dust in 
the corner of his office this year, and no playing when 
I go on his errands ; no, sir.” 

“ Percy Jenkins said the farmer’s family he sto])ped 


42 


Gems Without Polish. 


with was poorer tliaii he, but he 'would like to go 
again, he would ; jet his mother wont let him. lie 
never used to touch anj beer till he went to the coun- 
try and the folks there gave him cider, and a sort of 
beer they make out of stuff that grows. He drank so 
much of it that he just kept on drinking after he got 
home. His father has beer and liquor round all the 
time, so now he helps himself and gets as tipsy as 
any one. It wasn’t the union country- week he went 
on, but a sort of a private affair.” 

“They had cider at the farm where I stopped,” 
said Jack, “but the woman wouldn’t let me have 
any ; ’cause she heard my sister say that father drank, 
and she thought I might have an appetite like his. 
I knocked off smoking when 1 was ’vited on 
the country-week, ’cause they’d not have any smok- 
ing on the place wliere I was. I knew if I could 
go without the weed for a week I could for a year, 
and I’ve. done it. All the cigar stubs I find in the 
street now I give to grandfather, to smoke in his pipe. 
I don’t believe I could afford time for the country- 
week this year. I’ve got a bigger family to support 
than the rest of you chaps. There are six little 
ones. Why, we’ve actually run short of names for 
them. We call the last two ’84 and ’85, ’cause them’s 
the years when they were born. I take all the care 
of ’84, out of business hours. When I smoked I went 
without a cigarette many a time to buy him a stick of 
candy. I mean to set him up in the bootblack trade 
by the time he’s eight years old. Nothing like get- 
ting an early start and a good line of customers. 
Hey, Blackie?” 


“ You’re right,” 


“We’ve got 


answered Fred. 


A Peep at Boston. 


43 


four little tots at our house, and all mj wages go into 
the flour-barrel. John Blake said he’d look after 
that Frank if we’d let the little shaver go on the 
country-week with him, but mother wont let him go. 
John went last year, and took the tambourine he plays 
on in the Salvation Army. The folks came for miles 
to hear him sing and play, so he says, and he had all 
the hens and roosters and pigs a-crowing and squeal- 
ing, he made so much noise.” 

“ But if here aint our Sunday-school teacher ! ” 

As Miss Crosby, the young lady referred to, ap- 
proached, each boy sought to assume a more gentle- 
manly appearance. Ben tried to pull down his rag- 
ged jacket sleeve, which, however, only came a little 
below his elbow. Ira straightened out his legs, which 
he had been hugging in a most affectionate manner. 
Ernest threw away his cigarette. In return to their 
teacher’s greeting the boys bowed in rather an amus- 
ing way, but Miss Crosby appreciated the compli- 
ment from the brimless hats and shabby caps as if 
they had been of a finer quality. As she shook hands 
with the boys, they secretly vowed that she should 
never again find them with such soiled hands. 

‘‘ Sorry we aint got any seat for you,” said Ben. 

O, thank you ! I’m really in a hurry, but I mean 
to call on you all very soon. I came to say that 
some time ago I sent in your names as candidates 
for the country-week. It will be your turn to go to 
the country next week — that is, if your parents are 
Avilling.” 

“ Good}^ ! goody ! ” cried Ira. 

Hurrah ! ” shouted Jack. ’Course our folks will 
be willing. Aint we our own men ? Wont you have 


Gems Without Polish. 


U 

a paper, Miss Crosbj? There’s nothing in it; but 
you’re welcome to it.” 

Miss Crosby wasn’t the one to Jiiirt the feelings 
of a young boy or to blight his generosity by refus- 
ing his paper, or by offering to pay for it ; so she 
took it with a pleasant smile. Then turning to iS^ed, 
she asked : 

Well, my boy, what are you busying yourself 
about now ? ” 

“ O, Pm just kicking round,” he answered. “I 
only bother folks and get in their way, so I’m just 
the man to go rusticating. But do you mean that all 
of us are going ? ” 

“Certainly; you are all in my class.” 

“ I don’t see how 1 can spare time to go,” re- 
marked Ernest. “ Who’d look after the family when 
I’m gone ? ” 

“ May be your father would do something when 
he found he had no little man to depend upon,” 
answered ^Miss Crosby. “ I think we all need rest, 
at least once a year. I am sure that you do.” 

“Well, I’ll go if Mr. Baker will let me off,” said 
Ernest. “ He let me go last year, and he gave me 
this afternoon oft because he has gone on an excur- 
sion.” 

“ If any of you boys find any trouble in getting 
away, I will go and see your employers,” remarked 
Miss Crosby. “You must all come to mission-school 
to-morrow and tell me what your parents think of 
your intended visits. Then I will call at your homes 
Monday, and make all necessary arrangements. ^You 
will be gone from home for ten days, and will have 
all your expenses paid. If you liave not suitable 


A Peep at Boston. 


45 


clothing to wear let me know, and the country- week 
association will furnish what you need. All there 
is for you to do is to be as orderly as you can during 
your visit, and to respect and obey the kind friends 
who invite you to their homes. If you are disobedient 
you will be sent home at once. You will probably 
all go to the same place, a few miles out of Boston. 
By the way, Ira, I w^ant your sister Flossie to go too. 
I must now go and tell the other boys. Good-bye.” 

As soon as Miss Crosby was out of sight, the boys 
began to turn summersaults and to toss up their hats 
in their joy. 

Three cheers for Miss Crosby and the country- 
week I ” cried Jack. 

All the caps came off. The shouts brought new 
faces to the windows and a crowd of boys and girls 
to the dry-goods box. 

What’s the row ? ” was the inquiry of all the 
new-comers. 

‘‘ ’Taint no row,” answered Fred. “ We’re going 
to be Fresh-air Funders.” 

Ho, that’s nothing ! ” cried a little fellow, who 
had the word police pinned on to his hat, and who 
wore a tobacco tag as a badge. 

“ ’Tis, too ! ” answered Ben. “ We’re going to lay 
back for a whole week ; be freshmen, you see.” 

‘‘Ye’re too fresh!” exclaimed a little girl whose 
dress, once white, was now of a nameless color. “ I’ve 
been on the Fresh-air Fund. They’ve got a buttery 
just full of victuals in the country ,only they laughed 
when I said I could eat every thing in it for dinner. 
But what are you laughing so for, Ira Tenney ? to 
get your mouth stretched, to eat up the country ? ” 


46 


Gems Without Polish. 


“You’re mad ’cause you aint ’vited,” answered Ira. 
“They’d not have a girl like you to go again. You 
smoke cigarettes and are always growling. You’d 
get sent home the first thing if you should go to the 
country.” 

“ Wouldn’t, neither. I was straight as a church- 
steejile last country-week. 1 should think you 
needed to go to a farm to get cultivated, you’re so 
saucy.” 

“ Keep still, will you ! My father don't drive me 
out of the house when he’s drunk, the way yourn 
does, and my folks don’t have to move twenty times 
a year ’cause they don’t pay rent.” 

“ Y^ou’ll get tanned black as the stove,” observed a 
second girl, who was fanning herself with a piece of 
old pasteboard. “ I’d not spoil my complexion that 
way.” 

“Ha! ha!” cried Fred; “your face is white as 
chalk, aint it ! Yes, yes ; your face is as full of 
freckles as a sieve is full of holes. Bootifully com- 
plected, aint you ! ” 

The freckle-faced girl hid her blushes behind the 
pasteboard fan. 

“ When’s you going to the country?” inquired a 
little fellow who was swinging a pail of coal that he 
had been gathering from the street and from several 
ash-barrels. 

“We’re going next week,” replied Ernest. “Go- 
ing to be gentlemen for a whole .week. Expenses all 
paid, too; WTay they always are for distinguishable 
folks.” 

“ I should think you’d just been ’lected president,” 
cried a young urchin as he stooped to tie up his boot- 


A Peep at Boston. 47 

lacings, which, bj the way, were common white 
twine. 

“ But I don’t b’lieve Cleveland was ever ’vited on 
the country- week ! ” exclaimed Jack. My, I’d 
rather go to a farm-house than to the White House ! ” 
So would I ! ” vociferated a small bootblack. 
‘‘ I went to the country last year, and the whole town 
called on me to hear me jabber French ; but I’d not 
go to rusticate with such a set as you.” 

“ Better be careful what you say ! ” replied Jack. 

You aint respectable enough to go, you little French- 
man.” 

“ Say that agin, and I’ll make a football of your 
hat ; then you’d have to go bare-headed.” 

“ You dassent. But I’ll not try it now ; I feel 
too jolly over the country-week. Say, fellers, I think 
I'll have my life insured, ’cause if I should get run 
over, or die in any ’spectable fashion, what would be- 
come of my family ? ” 

Jack looked serious. 

“ You’d better get your rags insured,” suggested 
one of the girls. “ I know all about the country- 
week, ’cause my little sister went last year. She took 
her doll, and didn’t she give it away to the little girl 
she visited ! ” 

‘‘ I know about the ’sociation too,” cried another 
girl. “ My sister was sick last year, and the doctor 
said she must go to the country or to her grave, so 
she went to the farm and got well.” 

Meanwhile a number of little girls had gathered in 
the same alley, a few buildings below Mrs. Kellett’s. 

Addie Wright, a pretty-faced giil of fifteen, was 
leaning against an old tumble-down fence. Nearby 


48 


Gems AVithout Polish. 


were her little brother and sister, Percy and Belle. 
These children had been thrown upon her care by the 
death of a widowed mother two years previous. The 
ladies connected with a certain charitable society paid 
the rent of the little room where she lived and sold 
the delicate lace that her mother had taught her to 
make. This was her only support. 

Ellen Kellett, an ungainly girl of eight, was twin- 
ing the ends of her long yellow hair around her fin- 
ger, in the vain hope of making it curl. 

Effie Pitkin was sitting on an overturned coal- 
basket. Her tangled hair, her soiled hands and face, 
her tattered dress and moth-eaten, or, as she ex- 
pressed it, her open-work apron, showed that she did 
not object to such a seat. 

Several of the other girls were holding babies — 
that looked more like wraiths than mortals — who 
were gasping for breath and crying with pain. 

‘‘ There, Addie, I don’t see how you can keep 
Belle so clean,” remarked Ellen. 

I have to keep her clean, and every thing round 
the house too ; else my lace wouldn’t sell. I never 
was ’ticular till I took to making so much of that.” 
Addie gazed with almost a mother’s pride at the 
profusion of lace she had sewed on to Belle’s faded 
pink frock. 

“ I don’t b’lieve in being loo neat,” observed Effie, 
as she rocked back and forth on the coal-basket. 

I try to have my clothes clean, if they are rag- 
ged,” said Lizzie Kellett. “ How can you help that, 
when every thing you have is made out of other peo- 
ple’s worn-out duds? It’s a waste of time to mend 
’em, ’specially when you’re all tired out and haven’t 


A Peep at Boston. 


49 


got any needles or thread — or any money to buy ’em. 
It takes all my time for baby. Doesn’t it, old pre- 
cious ? ” 

She began to trot the child she was holding, a 
puny, pinched little thing, whose dress, much too 
small and tight, added to its general discomfort. 

‘‘ Let sister take her darling now,” requested El- 
len. ‘‘ There, Addie, I wish you’d make some lace 
for our baby’s dress. I’ll buy the thread and do 
something for you to pay for your work.” 

Certainly ; I’ll be glad to ’commodate you,” re- 
plied Addie, beginning to make a rough estimate of 
the amount of lace that would be required for the 
child’s dress, which, by the way, was of the coarsest 
material. 

“ I don’t like to be lolling round here all the after- 
noon,” said Maggie O’Laughlin, “ but it’s as easy 
taking care of baby out-doors as in-doors. I get out 
of patience toting him round so much. O dear ! there 
he tumbles down again.” 

Maggie picked up the little two-year-old, and added 
a slap to the blow he had received from his fall. 

I wouldn’t be so ugly to the little thing ! ” said 
Mary O’Beirne, rather sharply. 

I guess you would if you had taken care of young 
ones all your life,” retorted Maggie ; “ and mother’s 
babies are such fussy, drooly, colicky things ! ” 

If folks has babies I should think they’d take 
cai’e of ’em themselves,” suggested Mary, sarcastically. 

‘‘ But mother took care of her mother’s babies till 
she was married ; then she had her own to look after. 
I guess it’s none of your business if I do help her, 
M’hen she’s sick all the time and has those horrid old 
4 


50 


Gems Without Polish. 


vests to make.’’ Maggie’s manner toward her little 
brother now changed. She caught him in her arms 
and exclaimed : “ Darling lovey, sister is doing to 
love him always ; yes, she is ! ” 

“ I think my baby is the splendidest,” cried Mollie 
Pitkin. ‘^Pll jest squeeze ’oo all to pieces, old birdie, 
’oo’s so sweet.” 

Baby looked up with a pitiful expression. Why 
should he be hugged so rudely on so warm a day ? 
Why should he be trotted or tossed into the air 
until he was nearly jolted to death ? Why should he 
be alive and suffering in such an unpleasant place ? 

“ Well, Mollie Pitkin, you must like to lug that 
young one round this hot day,” said Flossie Tenney. 
“ Why don’t you let him walk ? He’s ’most two years 
old, isn’t he ? ” 

Yes, but he can’t walk much, he is so weak and 
small of his age. Sometimes I tie a rope round his 
waist and take hold of one end while he walks, then 
he gets along better, I think. 

“ Nearly two years old ! ” exclaimed Ellen. “ Why, 
our baby is six months old and she is as large as he 
is. I should think he’d roast with that blanket on.” 

“But he’s sick. I don’t want him to catch cold. 
There might be a draught. My ! I didn’t know his 
face was so dirty. But how can you keep clean 
without soap, and how can you pay eight cents a bar 
for soap when you aint got that much money to spare 
for a loaf of bread ? ” 

“You can’t,” answered Flossie, wondering how 
Ellen could reason so clearly. “ But say, girls, how 
do you like the trimming I sewed on to my dress last 
night ? ” 


A Peep at Boston. 


51 


“It’s real becoming,” replied Lizzie, with an ad- 
miring glance at the brown cashmere ruffle that 
adorned Flossie’s black alpaca skirt. 

“If here isn’t No. 18!” exclaimed Mary O’Laugh- 
lin. 

“ Halloo, girls ! I must stop and see the babies,” 
began Minnie George, the new arrival, as she tossed 
back her curls and gazed at the babies and their 
motherly sisters, who resembled so many little care- 
worn women. I guess I’ll take your baby first, Mollie. 
May I ? ” 

“ O yes, but be careful of the old lammie.” 

No. 18 laid the infant over her shoulder; the sun 
shone in his face and nearly blinded his eyes. Of 
course he cried ; but nobody minded that. 

“Wasn’t it dreadfully hot in the store to-day?” 
asked Mary O’Eeirne. 

“Well, I guess so! And I thought I should die 
for a drink. It seems as if nearly every body was in 
to-day, matching ribbons and twist for the fancy-work 
they are going to take to the sea-shore. All it’s been 
is, ‘ Cash, Cash, Cash ! ’ I’ve nearly run my feet off. 
Every one was so cross I thought I was in a cage with 
a lot of bears. I think it’s too bad to be in a store 
full of ribbons and laces and know that you can’t have 
any of them. But I must tell you the joke the clerks 
have been giving all day. Did you know that the 
equator has moved north and Boston is on it ? ” 

All laughed at this bit of news. 

Lucretia Kent, a neatly clad girl of eighteen, had 
joined the group in time to hear the last of Minnie’s 
conversation. She leaned against the fence and ex- 
claimed, “ O, I’m so tired of doing nothing ! I wish 


52 Gems Without Polish. 

I had some fancy-work or something to do. The 
family I work for has gone off for the summer. 
Pve tried for a week to get something to do, but 
every thing is so dull in hot weather. There was a 
chance in a store that I might have had, if I had 
only known in time that the folks were going away. 
They knew it for six weeks, and only told me the day 
before they went. Didn’t I have to fly around after 
a boarding-place ! I had to take up with a cheap 
boarding-house, because there’s no knowing when I 
shall get any more work, and my home is so far off. 
The girls where I stop are such a rough set ! I’ve 
always tried to behave myself, if I am poor. I prom- 
ised mother that I’d never go with girls that I should 
be ashamed to invite to my home ; but it’s hard work 
to keep away from them when you have nobody else 
to talk with.” 

‘‘Why don’t you come round and see us girls?” 
asked Maggie. “ We’re younger than you, but we’re 
’spectable.” 


The Dows. 


53 


CHAPTEE lY. 

THE DOWS. 

“Work — work — work ! 

My labor never flags ; 

And what are its wages ? A bed of straw, 

A crust of bread and rags, 

That shattered rooff this naked floor, 

A table, a broken chair, 

And a wall so blank my shadow I thank 
For sometimes falling there.” 

The Dows lived in tlie fourth story of one of the 
wretched tenements we have previously mentioned. 
The room in which we find tliem is, indeed, a dismal 
place. The light enters but dimly through the small 
windows, so greasy and smoky is the glass. The low 
walls show signs of the hideous paper which once 
covered them. Much of the plastering is missing 
from the dingy ceiling. The floor is covered with 
dust and rubbish. The air is close, and tainted with 
the fumes of liquor. Furniture is scant, but people 
are plenty. A thin-faced, poorly-clad girl of sixteen 
is sweeping. There is a careless air about her, and 
she uses the broom rather rudely. At the wash-tub 
stands a frail, ragged woman, whose care-worn brow 
tells of a life of sorrow. In one corner is a clothes- 
basket in which an infant sits,, propped up by two 
pillows that have never been honored with pillow- 
cases. To one handle of the basket is tied a second 
babe, about a year old. A three-year-old girl is run- 


54 : 


Gems Without Polish. 


ning about the room. These three babies are all cry- 
^ing at once. In another corner stands a bed, or rather 
a lieap of straw, with which two angry little girls are 
pelting each other. One has on a pink apron and no 
dress; the other, a gray sleeveless dress. Hear the 
rusty stove sits a still rustier man. A shabby hat is 
on the back of his head, which is leaning against the 
wall. His shoeless feet reach nearly to the center of 
the little room. He has a mouth, but he speaks not ; 
eyes has he, but he sees not ; he has ears, but he 
hears not ; a nose has he (and a very red one), but he 
smells not ; he has hands, but he handles not ; feet 
has he, but he walks not ; neither speaks he through 
his tliroat. They that make him (in this condition) 
are like unto him, so is every one that trusteth in his 
idol — Alcohol. 

Daisy looked up from her sweeping. There was 
a grave look on her young face. Her black eyes 
snapped. “ I don’t care if the folks we wash for do 
grumble about our being so dirty!” she exclaimed. 

I’d like to see them clean up with an old broom like 
this, ’specially after they’d had to cut half the handle 
off for kindling. O, I’m so tired ! I wish I wasn’t so 
old ; then I might be out-doors with the other girls.” 

“ But you are only sixteen,” answered the mother, 
“ and are yet only a little girl. If you were very 
much older you could not help me so much ; and what 
could I do without you ? ” 

“AYell, I wish I was cash-girl again. I’d rather be 
with cross clerks than with cross babies. There’s 
Baby Whitehead crying for me to take him now. 
But I can’t, my arm aches so. I should think I did 
my part to hold him all night.” 


The Dows. 


55 


“AVait jest a minute, mamma’s precious,” said 
Mrs. Dow, tossing a clotlies-pin to the child in the 
basket ; then, turning to Daisy, she said, “ You’ll 
have to wring these clothes now, while I see to the 
babies.” 

The young girl obeyed in a contrary spirit. In her 
haste she turned the wringer so roughly that it tore 
into shreds a dainty lace handkerchief. 

“ O Daisy, Daisy ! ” exclaimed her mother, “ Mrs. 
Holland’s nice handkerchief. It will take all that 
this washing comes to, to pay for such carelessness. 
Ho new hat for you this summer ! Leave the wash- 
ing at once and keep Myra and Josie still, if you 
can.” 

Daisy’s tears fell fast. She turned to her sisters, 
saying : 

“ There, girls, do stop your noise. My head aches 
as if it would burst.” 

“Your head always aches,” replied Josie. “ We’s 
only playing fight with the straw ’cause we aint got 
nothing else to play with. But I don’t tear folks’ 
handkerchiefs to pieces, I don’t.” 

“ Heither do I,” said Myra. “ But what are you 
throwing at us? Stop it, I say, Josie Dow ! ” 

“ Nothing, ” answered Josie. “ It’s jest the plas- 
tering falling. Those Muller girls make such a racket 
overhead.” 

Myra and Josie grew more quiet. Two of the 
babies stopped crying. Mrs. Dow drew a long breath 
and said : 

“ There, Daisy, go into the bedroom and get those 
shirts ready and carry them to Mrs. Lang.” 

“ O, dear ! She lives a mile off, and I am so tired ! ” 


56 Gems Without Polish. 

Why can’t she come after the old shirts herself ? 
She goes to ride every day.” 

Daisy went on her errand, however, and returned 
in about two hours. 

As she mounted the dilapidated stairs she sang a 
joyous song, in strange contrast with the dismal tune 
they appeared to croon. 

“ O mother ! ” she exclaimed, as she entered the 
little room, “ Chester’s Sunday-school teacher has in- 
vited him and me to go to the country for a whole 
week. It wont cost us a cent, either. She sent me 
to another lady, who gave me this bundle of clothes. 
I had to stop and peek into it on the street. There 
are shoes, and a new sacque, but I must make this 
dress do with a great deal of mending. And I am 
going to have a new hat, as soon as the lady can get 
one for me, so I don’t feel so bad about the handker- 
chief now.” 

There was great excitement in the little room for 
the next half-hour. The new clothes were examined 
and tried on. Myra thought that she ought to have 
the new sacque ; it was enough for Daisy to have the 
good times in the country. Myra felt slighted be- 
cause she had not been invited, and hoped that Daisy 
would never come back. Daisy decided that the 
best part of the country-week must be to have such 
nice new clothes. She kissed the babies again and 
again, in her glee, and was surprised at her own 
patience with Myra and Josie. She helped her 
mother more than ever with the work, and forgot 
how very tired she was. 

A ten-year-old boy rushed into the room and threw 
a bundle of Records on the table. His eyes were 


The Dows. 


5T 


as black as his sister’s. His face was pinched and 
pale. He wore a man’s hat, under wliich was a 
manly young head. His trousers, being too long for 
him, were rolled up at the- bottom. 

“ I’m about roasted ! ” he exclaimed in a loud voice. 
“ Papers wont sell at all ; there aint any news go- 
ing.” 

“ But, Chester, I have some splendid news to tell 
you,” cried Daisy. 

‘‘ O keep still, and give me that chair,” said the 
little boy, rudely pushing his sister out of the ‘‘ rock- 
er,” which, however, could boast of no real rockers. 

“ How if you’re going to act like that I shall not 
want you to go to the country with me, nor I wont 
tell you any thing about it either.” 

“ O goody ! Are we really invited on the coun- 
try-week ? Here, Daisy, you can have the chair.” 

Chester sat down on the floor, and Daisy seated her- 
self in the rocker and told the good news. 

Mrs. Dow then placed a plate of dry bread and a 
tin-pail cover of cold meat upon the table, and told 
the children that supper was ready. 

A quarrel arose as to who should sit up to the table 
in the rocker, the only chair in the room except the 
one in which the drunken father sat. Josie argued 
that this was her turn, because Chester had had the 
chair at the noon meal ; Myra, who was clinging to 
the back of the rocker, decided, at last, to give it up, 
on condition that she should eat from the only whole 
plate that the family possessed. Her eyes beamed tri- 
umphantly as she stood up to the table, holding the 
plate with both hands. 

Here little Elmer, the only remaining member of 


58 


Gems Without Polish. 


the family, came in. Chester took his share of bread 
and meat to eat on the street while he finished selling 
his papers. Daisy and Elmer sat on the heap of 
straw to eat theirs. 

Mrs. Dow gave each of the big babies a meat bone, 
with which they began to strike each other. She next 
refilled a bottle for the little child, and then made oat 
her own meal from the few scraps that remained after 
the older children had finished their repast. 

A cry now came from little Whitehead. “Baby 
No. 2” had crept up to the basket, taken his bottle, 
and was drinking the contents with great satisfaction. 
Daisy returned the stolen property. Then she changed 
the babies’ dresses for their yellow night-gowns, and 
pat them all to bed among the ragged quilts of the 
bed in an adjoining room. 

That evening Chester and Daisy had a quiet chat 
all alone with their mother. True, their father was 
in the room, but he was of no more account than a 
straw man. 

“Just think; we shall be company,” began Ches- 
ter. “ What do you do when yon are company ? Say, 
mother ! ” 

“O, you just do nothing but have a good time 
wdth the folks you visit. No work to do and all that 
you want to eat. Folks always give the best to their 
company.” 

“Was you ever company?” continued Chester. 

“Yes ; I had many a fine visit when I was a girl. I 
once had a chance to visit a whole year with a lady, 
and to help her with her sewing, but I took up with 
your father’s offer instead of hers.” 

‘‘ Just think ; the lady that told Miss Crosby to in- 


The Dows. 


59 


vite ns never saw us!” exclaimed Daisy. ‘‘How 
good she must be 1 But, mother, I wish you were go- 
ing on the country-week in my place. You need the 
rest so much. And how tired you will be when I am 
gone, and you will have to do your work and mine 
too 1 ” 

“ Hever mind, dear ; you need the change more than 
I do. You are young, and should have one little bright 
spot in your life. You will get new strength during 
your visit, and can help me more than ever when you 
come back. But I feel as if I had not done my duty 
toward my children when I see strangers planning 
for your pleasure, and think that I have done so little 
to make you happy.” 

“ O mother, don’t talk that way,” cried Daisy, as 
she drew closer to her mother. 

“ But I used to have good times when I was a girl, 
and you ought to have the same. I had all the flow- 
ers and berries in father’s pasture for mine. I’ve 
never had time to tell you much about the huskings 
I used to go to.” 

“How I should like to pick a whole handful of 
flowers just for once,” said Daisy. 

“ Ho, you did one time,” cried Chester, “and would 
have been put in the lock-up for stealing, if you hadn’t 
been a girl.” 

Daisy blushed and answered : “ But I took them 
for you, because you were a little fellow then, and sick. 
I never would have stolen them for myself. I know 
’twas wrong, but I only took two. I just wanted to 
see how it would seem to pick a flower, but it didn’t 
seem nice at all, for a man came along and said they’d 
lock me np if I should ever steal again. Then the 


60 Gems Without Polish. 

bovs cliased me home, shouting, ‘Thief! thief! 
thief!’’’ 

“ If every one should pick a few flowers there 
would be none left,” said Mrs. Dow. “ We’re poor, 
but I mean that' we shall always be honest. 1 hope 
that you will hear something good while you are gone. 
Country folks are ’most all church-going people ; they 
were in my town.” 

“ May be we can go to church when we are in the 
country,” said Daisy. “ And I am going to be so 
good to Chester all the week.” 

“ And I’m going to take such good care of you,” 
cried Chester. “Just think; notliing but good times 
for a whole week ! Can’t we carry your carpet-bag, 
mother ? ” 

“What ! tliat old thing? Well, yes, you may take 
it, and my satchel too. You shall go off in as good 
style as I can send you. But you’re not going for a 
week, and I’ll help Daisy mend her dress. I’ve ’bout 
forgotten how to mend, I’ve done so little of it lately ; 
for our clothes are all made of such cheap cloth that 
it doesn’t pay to mend them.” 

“Well, Chester, what do you suppose the country 
is like?” asked Daisy. 

“ O, I guess it’s something like a great bakery ; 
’cause one o’ the fellows who went last year said he 
had all the pies and cakes he could eat. But another 
fellow said the country was full of animals, oxen and 
pigs, so it must be a sort of a circus — but Miss Crosby 
said we wouldn’t have to pay to go.” 

Mrs. Dow laughed, and Daisy said, “ Mamie Beers 
told me that the country was all flowers, so, according 
to her, it must be a great flower-garden. How good 


The Dows. 61 

Miss Crosby was to send our names in. Pm as thank- 
ful to her as I can be.” 

“ Good ? W ell, I guess she is,” cried Chester, 
‘‘ If the Lord is any thing like her I mean to stick 
by him all my life ; and he must be, for she talks 
about him so much.” 

“ When I met her to-day she never found a word 
of fault about the weather,” said Daisy, “ and every 
body else was fussing about it.” 

Of course she didn’t,” cried Chester, glad that his 
much-loved teacher was under discussion. “She told 
us one time that it’s as wicked to find fault with tlie 
weather as it is to find fault with God — because he 
makes the weather. But I wish you were going to the 
country, mother. Frank Ames’s mother went last 
year to see her sister, who was ’most dying. If it 
hadn’t been for the country-week she couldn’t have 
gone, ’cause she is so poo]\” 

“Is Frank one of j^onr chums?” asked Mrs. Dow. 

“ He isn’t ’zactly a wdiole friend, only half a one ; 
part of the time I like him, then I don’t. I am go- 
ing to give him my customers while I’m gone, and 
not ask him a cent for the privilege, ’cause he’s poorer 
than the poor-house; and I’ve got the best line of 
customers of any one. He says his little sister that’s 
a cripple went on the country-week last year. All 
winter, when she was so sick that she couldn’t sleep, 
she’d be thinking o’ the flowers and chickens she 
saw on the farm. He says his other sisters play coun- 
try-week all the time. They have the chairs for cars, 
and one corner of the room for Boston, and another 
corner for the country.” 

“ Charlie Smith w^anted to take his dog on the fresh- 


62 


Gems Without Polish. 


air fund last summer,” said Daisy. ‘‘ He was afraid 
his folks wouldn’t take care of the little thing while he 
was gone. He cried so much, when his Sunday-school 
teacher told him that he must leave Fido at home, 
that one of the care-takers said he might go to her 
country home and take the dog.” 

“ He told me how he used to make boats out of 
great yellow cucumbers,” said Chester. “ He sailed 
’em in the brook, and let the girls fill ’em with their 
paper- dolls and play the dolls were having a harbor 
ride. ’Twas lots o’ fun, too, he said.” 

“Do you suppose we shall like the country peo- 
ple ? ” asked Daisy. 

“ I’ve seen lots of country fellers,” answered Ches- 
ter. “ Sometimes I go around the fine saloons 
to sell papers; and folks draw the country boys 
ill there and treat ’em, and hoot if they don’t 
drink.” 

“ O, Chester, I do wish you would keep away from 
such places,” sighed Mrs. Dow. “I’d rather you’d 
never sell a paper than to sell them around the sa- 
loons.” 

“I hope the country people will treat us as if we 
were decent folks — because we are,” said Daisy. “ To- 
day is the first time I’ve been out of the house for 
a week, and I would rather never go out than to be 
sauced as I was by that Howland girl. She twitted me 
because my mother is a washer- woman ; just as if that 
is any disgrace !” The young girl’s face fiushed with 
anger. 

“Hever mind, dear,” said Mrs. Dow; “your poor 
old mother has seen better days. My father used to 
own the best farm in his town. But the country 


The Dows. 


63 


people will treat you respectfully, unless they’ve 
changed from what farm folks were when I was a 
girl.” 

“We’ll be rid of this awful heat for a week,” said 
Chester. “ But this weather is good for those boys 
that have to sleep in dry-goods boxes and barrels, or 
anywhere that they can.” 

“You will find hot weather in the country as well 
as in the city,” remarked Mrs. Dow ; “ but there will 
be cool shady places, and there is generally more or 
less wind blowing in the country.” 

“How strange it will seem to have nothing to do 
for a whole week !” exclaimed Daisy. “ I met Addie 
Wright, and she said she was going to take her work, 
and make lace to give to tlie people she will stop 
with.” 

“ Ho, I’d not take any work to the country,” cried 
Chester. “I’d want something there that I couldn’t 
get at home.” 

The oil in the little lamp was now all gone, and so 
the conversation ended. 

The next morning was an unusually busy one at 
Mrs. Dow’s. Daisy did more mending in one hour 
than she had ever done before in all her life. Ches- 
ter made out a list of all the articles he thought they 
needed to carry with them. He condescended to 
take care of the babies that his mother might have a 
chance to mend his clothes. 

“ Long’s I’m going to take a sort o’ foreign trip I 
might as well dispose o’ my val’ables,” he said, 
emptying his pocket for the first time in three 
months. 

“ Give every thing to me,” cried Josie. 


64 


Gems Without Polish. 


“ No, sir ; but you can have this ring. I got it with 
a stick o’ gum for a prize ; it ’pears like real gold. 
Here, Myra, you can take these pencil stubs; I 
sha’n’t need ’em when Pm abroad ; you can make 
pictures with ’em on the backs of these old hand- 
bills.” 

‘‘Yes; and Pll write you a letter on one of them. 
But what made you give Baby No. 2 them tacks? 
He’s driving them all into the floor with that doll’s 
head, and she’s one I borrowed. O dear! ” 

“ Never mind, here’s a lot of rope you can give that 
Jenks fellow for reins.” 

“ No ; I want it all,” cried Elmer, snatching a piece 
from his brother’s hand and beginning to harness up 
the clothes- wringer. 

‘‘ All right,” said Chester. “ And who wants my 
collection of tobacco tags ? the best collection that any 
fellow in our set ever got.” 

“Me! me!” cried Josie. 

“ But mother don’t like to have you get ’em, ’cause 
it makes you want to buy the tobacco.” 

“ Well, take them, and see that you don’t lose 
them. Pll give this boot-buttoner to mother, and 
this old cologne bottle to the babies ; ’twill keep ’em 
quiet while Pm gone.” 

The children gazed anxiously at the remaining 
contents of their older brother’s pockets as they lay 
on the table. To whom would he give them ? 

“Well,” he exclaimed, with a long breath, “I 
guess I’ll give the rest of my po-possessions to the 
fellows to ’member me by during my ab-absence ; so 
don’t you little shavers tease for any of the rest of 
these things.” 


The Dows. 


65 


The articles referred to were slate-pencils, marbles, 
pens, blunted fish-hooks, nails, screws, bits of colored 
glass, pin-balls, buttons, tooth-picks, an old broken 
knife, and the myriad things that find their way 
into a boy’s pocket. Very ordinary and intrinsically 
valueless was this miscellaneous stock ; but the im- 
agination of boyhood had glorified it ; and Chester 
felt a sense of bereavement as he parted with the last 
item. 

5 


66 


Gems Without Polish. 


CHAPTEK V. 

ON THE WAY. 

“ Child of the town and bustling street, 

What woes and snares await tliy feet ! 

Thy paths are paved for five long miles, 

Thy groves and hills are peaks and tiles ; 

Thy fragrant air is yon thick smoke, 

Which shrouds thee like a mourning cloak. 

Fly from the town, sweet child ! for health 
Is happiness, and strength and wealth.” 

One liot Tuesday morning of July a curious group 
had gathered at one of the Boston depots. We rec- 
ognize many of those we have met in the alley. Their 
faces have lost their sad expression, and are bright 
at the thought of the expected visit to the country. 
The children’s rags have given place to neat-titting 
garments. All the little ones have new hats. They 
keep feeling them, to be sure they have not blown 
away. Several are gazing down at their new shoes, 
and one little girl is wiping the dust from hers with 
her handkerchief, while Ira kept constantly taking 
off his hat to show how nicely his mother had cut his 
hair. 

Many of the girls have adorned themselves with 
extra finery for this occasion. 

Flossy Tenney had borrowed a string of black 
beads to wear to the country. She also wore a pair 
of cheap bracelets, which had been obtained from a 


On the Way. 


67 


penny lottery, and she carried an old brown parasol. 
Daisy had let her dress down and coiled her hair on 
the top of her head, that she might pass for a young 
lady. Molly Pitkin had invested her savings in a 
pair of cheap kid gloves, which she kept taking off 
and working on in an impressive manner. She w^ore 
a new sacque, which, in spite of the oppressive heat, 
she could not be persuaded to remove, and her hat 
was trimmed with bright paper flowers, but she was 
mourning because she had only lace enough for one 
of the sleeves of her dress. 

All w^ere burdened with bundles, baskets, or valises, 
which contained their scanty wardrobe, and many 
children also carried their little valuables. “If we 
leave our ribbons and pretty pieces of paper at home,” 
said one little girl, “ the smaller children will lose, 
them before we get back.” 

Two of the little girls carried their dolls in their 
arms. These they had dressed alike — red napkins for 
shawls, and the heels of old stockings on their heads 
for toboggans. 

Jack Snow held a bat over his shoulder. The boys, 
like all true excursionists, had taken forethought for 
the pleasure of their outing, and, clubbing together, 
had bought a bat and ball. 

Chester carried an umbrella, and several of the 
girls had their gossamers. 

Fred Stanwood 'was running up and down the plat- 
form, tooting as loudly as he dared, to represent an 
engine. 

Addie and her little brother and sister were in this 
group. She had taken much pride in getting Percy 
and Belle ready for their visit. She was drilling 


68 


Gems Without PolisA. 


them on the rules she wished them to follow during 
the country- week. 

“ I^^ow, Percy,” she began, “ what are you going to 
say to the man we shall stop with ? ” 

The little fellow looked thoughtful for a few sec- 
onds, then answered : 

“ ‘Yes, sir ; ’ ‘ I^o, sir ; ’ ‘I thank you, sir ; ’ ‘ If 
you please, sir ; ’ ‘ What, sir ? ’ ” 

“ Good ! ” exclaimed the fond sister ; “ only don’t 
say them all at once, and don’t tell tlie people that 
you learned such things just because you’re going vis- 
iting. And what is Belle to say to the lady we are 
going to see ? ” 

Belle squinted her eyes, puckered up her mouth, 
and replied : 

“ ‘ Yes’m,’ ‘ Ko’m,’ ‘ What’m ? ’ O, Addie, Ps for- 
dot all the rest. But I dess she’ll know ’em.” 

Meanwhile Effie kept nudging Mollie to remind 
her to behave “ properly ” in the country. 

Lizzie Kellett had brought a paper bag of dough- 
nuts, with which she was treating her friends. Her 
sister Ellen was showing a bottle of cologne, and prom- 
ising to scent the girls’ handkerchiefs as soon as they 
should come in sight of the country. 

Mrs. Bochester and her blind grandchild were in 
the party. Laura was sixteen years old, but very 
small of her age. There was a sweet expression on 
her face that attracted general attention. 

Mrs. Sturgis and Mrs. Boid were here with their 
babies. Jane Meridith was also one of the number. 
With her was her only cliild, Harold, a little three- 
years-old. Jane’s sad story was well known to many 
present. She had married a rude, dissipated man. 


On the Way. 


69 


He had died two years before, leaving her to support 
herself and child as best she could. In order to en- 
joy the privileges of the country- week she had skt up 
until twelve o’clock every night for a week and 
more, to finish the vests from which she now eaimed 
her living. 

Lucretia Kent had taken in charge a little cripple. 
This was Blanche Howe, an orphan, who had never 
walked but with crutches. 

A pair of colored twins, six years of age, was in 
the group — Abraham Lincoln and James Garfield 
Hollins. This presidential pair did nothing out of the 
way, yet the care-taker kept her eye upon them 
continually. 

Several ragged urchins had come to see their friends 
off. Their words of parting were far from compli- 
mentary. 

‘‘Ye needn’t feel so stuck up,” cried one little fel- 
low. “ I’s goin’ to have a country- week o’ me own, 
when I’s in long pants, and ye sha’n’t be ’vited then, 
not one o’ ye.” 

“ You country luffers will be green as grass when 
you come back,” remarked another. “ May-be you’ll 
bring the hay-fever back, and that’s worse that the 
’tlieria.” 

“ Maggie O’Laughlin’s took all the clothes she’s got 
— jest to show ’em,” shouted a little girl. “ She’s took 
three pair o’ stockings, but she never changes ’em at 
home. She borrowed my sister’s hair ribbon to 
wear.” 

“ Say, Gray, is your hands freezing ? ” asked a 
street Arab, whose bare shoulders were peeping out 
of a rairged waist. 


70 Gems Without Polish. 

Ben removed his hands from the pockets of his 
new suit, and would gladly have used them upon 
the juvenile railer ; but this was not a time for 
quarrels. 

One little bootblack was kindly disposed, and gave 
a free shine to many of the vacationists. 

Fred Stan wood made arrangements with a young 
orphan to lend him his outfit free for a week. lie 
sent a note to his mother to this effect. 

An officer soon drove the offenders away, and the 
country-weekers continued their conversation unmo- 
lested. The girls began to tell how they had worn 
their hair in crimp-papers for six or eight days, how 
they had washed, ironed, and mended their clothing, 
and how they had packed and unpacked their band- 
boxes again and again. 

Ernest was telling how he had nailed to his door a 
shingle bearing these words : “ Harlow’s gone to the 
country-week for a week. All business neglected for 
that time will be settled when he’s home.” 

Waiting for the same train was a party of young 
girls on their way to a fashionable summer resort in 
another State. They had been preparing for months 
for their outing, yet how small was their expected 
pleasure compared with that looked for by the coun- 
try-weekers ! 

In due time all hustled into the train. The chil- 
dren all wanted the seats nearest the windows. Many 
had never been in a car before, and thought it fine 
fun to sink back in the soft velvet cushions. Then 
the handkerchiefs were waved through the open 
window, the good-byes were shouted, and the train 
started. 


On the Wat. 


71 


The other passengers assisted the care-taker in 
looking after the children. No one cared to read 
on that train. The newsboy spent a long time 
in “ talking business ” with Chester, who didn’t 
know but what he also would go to selling papers on 
the cars. 

One gentleman told the candy- boy to see that every 
conn try- weeker was supplied with sweetmeats at his 
expense. The joyous yet soiled faces of the children 
showed that this treat was the happiest feature of their 
ride. 

Another gentleman passed his hat and received a 
generous collection for the country-week charity, 
which he handed to'^the care-taker. 

One bachelor, who pretended to be much disturbed 
by the prattle of the children, did not see why 
people should make such a time over a car-load of 
beggars.” 

One of the lady passengers took a great fancy to 
little Belle. Lifting the child to her lap, she ex- 
claimed, ‘‘ O, if God had only taken this little girl 
instead of mine, how much better it would have 
been ! ” 

But Addie did not think so. Tears came to her 
eyes as she heard this rude remark. 

A second lady slipped a dollar into Mrs. Eochester’s 
hand for the little blind girl. She said that she in- 
tended to start a private country- week as soon as she 
should reach her home in the West. 

The car was a real question-box. A few of the 
inquiries made by the children were as follows: 
Would they get to Brown ville before the man who 
gave them the candy should reach New York ? 


72 


Gems Without Polish. 


Would they come back the way they went? Was 
the conductor the police ? Had he ever seen the 
country? Did the brakeman own the train ? Would 
he give them another ride some time ? W ould he 
call out ‘‘ the country ” when they reached it, as he 
did the names of the other places ? W as this girl’s 
hair-ribbon tied properly? Was that boy’s neck-tie 
all right? 

“Aint we most there?” was Mollie’s constant in- 
quiry. 

‘‘ Don’t the cars dit tired doin’ so fast ? ” asked 
Bell. 

‘‘Is the train running away? Wont the en- 
gine blow us up ? ” shrieked Percy, in a frightened 
tone. 

Addie hushed his cries and fastened his toy reins 
to the seat. He then imagined that he was “ driving 
the cars.” 

“ What makes the smoke chase us ? ” asked Minnie 
George, who was standing up all the way, her dress 
being starched so stiff that she feared she might wrinkle 
it by sitting down. 

“Who says I wont be the first to jump into 
the country?” questioned Ben Gray, who was so 
afraid he might be left that he stood near the 
door all the while. He was holding an old car- 
pet-bag which he had found in his father’s junk- 
store. 

Many wonders were spied all along the way from 
the car windows. 

One child exclaimed at sight of a field of mown 
hay: “Isn’t that too bad? Somebody has upset a 
whole load of hay ! ” 


On the Way. 


73 


Another called attention to a field of “ yellow grass,” 
meaning the wheat. 

All mistakes were promptly corrected by the chil- 
dren who liad enjoyed the country- week the year be- 
fore. Proud indeed they were to thus display their 
knowledge. 

Parties of country-weekers were left at nearly every 
station passed. 

At last the cry of ‘‘ Brownville ” caused a commo- 
tion. All rushed toward the doors. Ira alone did not 
want to get off ; he was too much pleased with his 
present surroundings. He said to the care-taker : 

“ Didn’t the captain, I mean the conductor, tell a 
man that this train is going to Worcester? Well, I 
want to go there; I’ve not had a long enough ride.” 

Quite a company had gathered on the platform to 
welcome their guests, who were now flocking from 
the train. 

How busy Mr. King was, counting the country- 
weekers, checking off his human freight, and introduc- 
ing them to their hosts. 

Mrs. King was every-where present, hugging the 
children and shaking hands with the women, some of 
whom had not received such a courtesy for several 
months. 

The Knights and Lady’s-Delights were on duty. 

Country and city children stood gazing at one an- 
other in a bewildered manner. Some of the little 
ones from the city were rather timid and quiet, others 
were very bold and talkative. Ira was snufiing the 
air, to see if it was so very wonderful after all. Fred 
could scarcely refrain from turning somersaults, so 
great was his joy. 


74 


Gems Without Polish. 


The twins, whom Mr. King was to entertain, caused 
general merriment. Little Bee was quite annoyed 
when May kissed them ; she declared that her sister 
would be kissing a monkey next. 

A reporter from a neighboring village was present, 
gathering items for his paper. 

The care-taker was giving her last instructions to 
the children and bidding them good-bye, for she was 
to return on the next train. 

The country-weekers were now all checked off, 
and the farmers began to drive them to pleasant 
homes, where the good women were waiting to re- 
ceive them. 

Mrs. Coit’s guests, being sick, were unable to come 
at present; consequently Mrs. Jewel gave up to her 
Mrs. Boid and child. 

Through some slight mistake of Mr. King’s Lutie 
Moorhouse was credited with three guests instead of 
two ; but as she was to receive board this made no dif- 
ference. She was to entertain Addie and her little 
family. Will was to drive them to his home in an 
old wagon, whose dilapidated harness was mended with 
various styles of rope. 

‘‘We hasn’t any money to pay you,” said Percy, as 
he was lifted into the team. 

“ Kever mind,” answered Will ; “ people don’t have 
to pay to ride in the country.” 

“Where’s my girls? O, here they be,” cried Cap- 
tain Koberts, with a delightful disregard of the rules 
of English grammar. “ And what’s your names?” 

“ Mine’s Mary O’Laughlin,” answered the older of 
the girls addressed. Then as the younger did not 
give her name she remarked, “There, Maggie 


On the Way. 75 

O’Laugblin, why don’t you tell him your name; I 
sha’n’t.” 

‘‘ But you have told me ! ” laughed the jolly captain. 
“ Here’s my craft. I guess Maggie’d better go in 
the stern and Mary in the bow with me.” Then no- 
ticing his mistake, he said, ‘‘ Ha-ha ! I thought the 
old team was my boat; but I’m sort o’ excited. 
Ha-ha!” 

Jane and little Harold rode off in Mrs. Kankin’s 
fine carriage, and Hortense held the baby nearly the 
whole way home. Dr. Murray’s team was on hand 
for Lucretia Kent and Blanche Howe. Paul Jennino^s 
helped Jack Snow into his team, shouting, “ Go long, 
ye old horse ! ” and drove to his home. Frank Brad- 
ley was rather shy of his company, the Kellett sisters ; 
but tried to be as polite as possible as he helped them 
into his team and drove them home, where they were 
warmly welcomed by his mother. He then returned 
to the station for Mrs. Sturgis and the baby, whom 
he carried to Mrs. Dickinson’s. Mr. Parker came for 
his guests with his ox-team, because he happened to 
be using it that morning, and could not stop to take 
his wagon out ; but had he appeared with a chariot 
and the most graceful of horses Fred Stanwood and 
Ernest Harlow would not have been so delighted to 
ride therein as they were to ride on the ox-team. 
Flossie and Ira were to be entertained by the Dun- 
lap family. Raymond cut a cane, swung their valise 
over his shoulder, and accompanied them to his home. 
The Gray boys were to stop with Miss Rachel An- 
drews. She “ marched ” them to her home with all the 
dignity imaginable. The Woolridge and Pitkin sis- 
ters were soon “ paired up,” and walked oft* arm in 


76 


Gems Without Polish. 


arm. Miss Haines, the teacher of the Brown ville 
school, was to entertain Minnie George, and widow 
Bolton was to have Mrs. Rochester and Laura. Mr. 
King started homeward with one of the twins on his 
shoulder ; the other walked hand in hand with Estelle. 
The Lovells and their guests were the last to leave 
the station. The quiet of the country road was soon 
restored, and an unwonted peace rested on all hearts 
— those of the country-weekers and those of their 
hospitable hosts. 


The Dows and the Lovells. 


77 


CHAPTER YL 

THE DOWS AND THE LOVELLS. 

“ And whoso shall receive one such little child in my name receiv- 
eth me.” 

“ O Chester ! isn’t she lovely ? I wish I could be 
her company,” exclaimed Daisy, at first sight of May. 

Sure enough, her wish was to be gratified. 

I am going to love you so much,” said May, as 
she was introduced to Daisy. 

Tears came to the eyes of the young city girl. Ho 
one had ever whispered such a message to her before. 
Of course her mother loved her ; but she never spoke 
of such things. How sweet for May to hug and kiss 
her the first thing ! the other country girls did not 
welcome their guests in this manner. 

“ But I’m going to love you the mostest ! ” declared 
Bee, who had overheard May’s remark. 

“Ho; I is,” cried Bess; “and I’s dot a whole 
mouthful of kisses for ’oo.” 

“ Bless your heart ! ” said Daisy. “ I’m glad there’s 
a baby girl where I’m going, for I shall miss our 
babies.” 

“ My name is Baby Bess, and does ’oo know who 
’ooself is % ” 

“ Yes, I’m Daisy.” 

“ There’s my brother,” cried Bee, pointing to Ches- 
ter. “His last name is Junior, but mine is Lovell. 


78 


Gems Without Polish. 


He’s not as good as May. Why, she is as good as a 
meeting-house, and as old-fashioned as a spinning- 
wheel.” 

All but Johnnie, who was to walk home, now got 
into the team. Aunt Mary, Chester, and Bee occu- 
pied the front seat ; Daisy, May, and Baby Bess sat 
on the back seat. 

How the city children enjoj^ed their first country 
ride ! How refreshing was the breeze that had just 
blown up, as if on purpose to fan their pale cheeks ! 
What a sweet welcome the wild birds sang ; and how 
pleasing was the ever-changing landscape, the smooth, 
green fields, the fiowery meadows, the rounded hills, 
the leafy groves, the winding roads, and the neat 
farm houses, nestling here and there so cosily ! 

How eagerly Chester and Daisy looked for new 
wonders as they rode along; and how many they 
found — the scpiirrel running along the stone- wall, the 
junipers leaning so prettily against the fence, the 
plots of beautiful ferns, the farmer resting in his 
shady door- way tired out with his last load of hay, 
the woman washing at a tub under the apple-trees, 
upon whose brandies she was hanging her clothes — 
Daisy wished that her mother could wash in this way 
— the little bridge across the brook, the pond, the 
corn-houses, the hay-stacks, the dog that ran from his 
kennel to bark a gruff salutation, the lambs fol- 
lowing their mothers, the stray sheep, the grazing 
cows ! 

How many questions tliese city children asked — 
What street were they on ? What was the use of so 
long a street? Why were the houses so far apart? 
Why did every body rush to the windows to see them ? 


The Dows and the Lovells. 79 

Why did Bess and Bee look longer at the people in 
the teams met than they did at the beautiful flowers ? 
Who owned the flowers? Why weren’t the birds in 
cages? Why did people let their cows and horses 
go loose in the pastures ? Why was it so quiet ? What 
did farmers do with so much land? Was there any 
other country besides Brown ville ? 

At times Daisy and Chester would just gaze in 
silence at the beautiful surroundings; then they 
would exclaim again and again, “ O how lovely the 
country is ! O what a nice time we’re having! What 
a nice ride 1 ” 

“ What lots of commons there are,” observed 
Chester. 

“ O, those are only fields,” answered Bee. 

“ I thought they were yards,” said Daisy. But 
it seemed strange to me that one house should have 
so many yards.” 

‘‘ Why are the trees all mixed up ? ” asked Chester. 
‘‘ The trees in Boston all grow in a row, as if they 
were marching.” 

‘‘ The trees grow anywhere and anyhow in the coun- 
try,” answered Aunt Mary, “just as they happen to 
spring up: but in the city they are set out in regular 
order. You see, God plants the trees in the country, 
and man plants them in the city.” 

“ How broad the sky is, and how blue it is ! ” ex- 
claimed Daisy. 

“Your Boston sky is just the same,” replied Aunt 
Mary, “ only there it is hidden from sight by the tall 
buildings.” 

“How wrinkley it is ! ” remarked Chester. 

“Yes; and aren’t the clouds beautifill !” said May. 


80 Gems Without Polish. 

‘‘They remind me of whole cities of little fairy 
palaces.” 

“They make me think of soap-bubbles,” said 
Daisy. 

“ They look like tents,” cried Chester. 

“ They ’ooks ’ike ’ittle soft beds, and I’d ’ike to 
jump right into ’em,” laughed Bess. 

“ There’s a sign and no store to it ! ” exclaimed 
Chester, pointing to a sign-board, that was nailed to 
a tree. 

“ That sign tells people to go to a clothing-store in 
a village near Brown ville,” said May. 

“ Quite an idea. But what makes folks plant their 
vines so near the road. O, we are running over one ! 
Yes — and a little flower too ! Whoa ! ” 

As soon as the horse stopped May jumped out of 
the carriage and picked the stray flower which had 
been so bold as to blossom in the road. 

She gave it to Daisy, who exclaimed, “ O, you 
dear little flower, what if the horse’s foot had crushed 
you ! ” 

“ Pd not make such a time over a flower,” cried 
Bee. 

“ Hush, Beatrice! ” said Aunt May, sternly. “ But 
perhaps Chester would like to drive.” 

Of course he would. He took the reins and drove 
in rather a zigzag fashion, but nobody was in a 
hurry. 

After a while, Daisy apologized for her remark. 

“ Perhaps you girls would be as pleased with a 
flower as I am, if you only had one once or twice in 
a year. I did not know before that Chester cared so 
much for flowers or any thing pretty, but he used to.” 


The Dows and the Lovells. 


81 


“ You dear child, you shall pick every flower in 
Brownville, if you care to undertake such a task,” 
said Aunt Mary, very heartily. ‘‘I’ve not picked a 
single blossom from my garden for a week ; 1 am sav- 
ing them all for our company.” 

The smile returned to Daisy’s face. 

“I guess I’d have always liked pretty things, 
if I’d only had them to like,” said Chester. “But 
who ever did see so many kinds of fences? They 
are made of stones, and branches, and trees— and 
nearly every thing.” 

“Let’s see how many different kinds of fence we 
can count,” suggested Bee. “ There are stub-fences, 
wire-fences, and wooden ones, and fences made on 
the top of stone-walls — but look ! look ! see that bird 
fly through that knot-hole into Chase’s farm. She’s 
got a nest there I know ! ” 

The little Lovells told who lived in this house and 
who in that ; whose pasture this was and whose the 
next; in what direction was the church, the school- 
house, the store ; who was buried in one family grave- 
yard, and who in another. The Dow children thought 
their store of knowledge was exhaustless. 

As the country scenes grew less novel, Aunt Mary 
began to question her company. 

“ Well, Chester, how old are you ? ” she asked. 

“Don’t know,” came the answer, “’bout ten, 
teacher says. Nobody ever kept account.” 

“ How did your teacher know your age ? ” 

“ O, teacher knows every thing. She guesses at 
ages. She put me ahead o’ Billie Bradford ’cause 
I’m a head taller.” 

Aunt Mary laughed. 

6 


82 


Gems Without Polish. 


And what does jour father do ? ” 

“ Gets drunk,” Chester answered indifferently. 

Daisy blushed (for the first time in her life) at 
thought of her father’s failings. 

“ I mean what is your father’s business,” said Aunt 
Mary. 

“ O, he makes a business of that.” 

“ But how does he support his family ? ” 

“ The family supports him. Ma and I fork over 
the chink for the old man.” 

“ You are not to use any slang words while you are 
here. We do not allow them at our house. And you 
should speak more respectfully of your father.” 

‘‘ But, there aint a ’spectable thing about him.” 

“ Then say nothing about him, but try to love 
him because he is your father. How many brothers 
and sisters have you ? ” 

“ I’ve got two boys and five sisters. There’s only 
ten in our family ; the smallest one in the tenement.” 

“ What can so many of you find to do ? ” 

“ O, we quarrel like dogs and cats.” 

Poor Daisy was much embarrassed. She could not 
contradict this statement, however. 

Aunt Mary now took the reins and drove up to one 
of the farm-houses. 

‘‘ What a pleasant place ! ” exclaimed Daisy. “ Is 
this your home ? ” 

‘‘ Yes, and it is to be yours too for a week.” 

The happy girl took a long look at the large old- 
fashioned house. The elms overtopped the square 
roof. The veranda, a modern addition, was draped 
with woodbine. The front flower-garden was bright 
with hollyhocks, geraniums, and petunias. 


The Dows and the Lovells. 83 

Mrs. Lovell came down the walk to greet her guests. 

“ Here they are ! ” cried Bee. “ The girl is as 
poor as a screen-door and the boy is as skinny as a 
grasshopper.’’ 

“ There, be more careful, Beatrice.” 

Then the good woman helped Chester and Daisy 
out of the carriage and led them into the house, 
where Bess told them ‘Ho take off their sins.” 

Johnnie, who had cut across the fields and been at 
home for some time, now appeared in the parlor witli 
a pasteboard banner, mounted on a broomstick and 
bearing the word “ Welcorn-eP 

“ Can’t I see what ’oo brought,” asked Bess, trying 
to open Chester’s valise. 

“Why, Baby Bess, I’m ’stonished!” cried Bee, 
sharply. “ O dear, that child is such a ’sponsibility !” 

Daisy laughed and took Bess into her lap. 

Mrs. Lovell told her guests that they must look up 
to her as to tlieir motlier, while they stayed ; come to 
her with every thing; feel perfectly at home, and go 
wherever they wished over the farm. She then went 
about her house- work, and Aunt Mary soon went to 
the new barn to help prepare for the reception. 

When the children were alone they began to ad- 
mire the room in wliich they were seated. 

Mrs. Lovell’s parlor was one of the chief attrac- 
tions of Brown ville. The farmers’ wives were in 
the habit of bringing their company to call on lier 
that they might see this room. It was a favorite re- 
sort for lyceums and church socials. The young 
ladies had secretly decided to make it a model of 
their parlors, when they should have such. The little 
girls had fitted up the parlors of their play-houses 


84 


Gems Without Polish. 


after Mrs. Lovell’s ; they could be induced to do al- 
most any thing on promise of a call at this good 
woman’s and of a peep at lier ‘‘ best room.” 

Isn’t our parlor just lovely ! ” began Bee. “So 
is the rest of our house. I’ll show you all the rooms 
to-morrow, and let you peek into the drawers and 
closets.” 

“ O yes, this is a pretty room,” answered Daisy, 
glancing at the bright carpet, the neat furniture, the 
snowy curtains, and the numerous pictures and orna- 
ments that were in every conceivable spot? 

“Here’s a vase I had last Christmas,” announced 
Bee, pointing toward the mantle. “ Do you know 
whose birthday comes every Christmas \ ” 

“ Santa Claus’s,” cried Bess. 

“Ho, it’s Christ’s birthday. My birthday was in 
August last year, but may be it will come in Septem- 
ber this year.” 

“ O, you comical little thing ! ” said Daisy. “ How 
old are you ? ” 

“I was six and a-half my last birthday. But is 
your parlor as nice as ours? ” 

“We have no parlor; I was never in one before. 
We can’t fix up our house much, for we move so 
often.” 

“ I have seen nicer parlors tlian this ! ” exclaimed 
Chester. “ I’ve seen them through windows. They 
are all curtains and monuments — I mean statuary — 
and pictures so big they can only have one on a side 
of the room. AVhen it’s a cold night I ’magine I’m in 
these, side o’ the fire in the fire-place.” 

The Lovell children listened in silence to Chester’s 
glowing description. 


The Dows and the Lovells. 


85 


‘•Don’t ’oo wants to see my tap book?” asked 
Bess, “ ’tis a tisrnas pwesent.” 

Certainly they did. 

Then the albums must be shown, and a story told 
with each photograph. 

“ There is Mr. Parker’s picture,” said Bee. “ He’s 
a man that lives near us — no, he is not quite a man, 
because he hasn’t any mustache. And these pictures 
we got at the mission-band. They are the good mis- 
sionaries.” 

“What! those horrid looking things!” cried 
Cliester. 

“ 'No, no,” laughed Johnnie. “ Tliey are the heathen 
idols.” 

“ This is Aunt Mary’s picture,” continued Bee, 
turning over several pages at once. “And the man 
on the next page is Mr. Adams. He isn’t her father, 
or her brother, or her husband, but he is something 
else ; I shall not tell what.” 

“ An’ I s’all not,” cried Bess. “ But auntie’s name 
is doin’ to be Mary Adams sometime.” 

“ She’s going to have some wedding-cake too,” said 
Bee. 

“ There, she told you not to tell that she was going 
to be married ! ” exclaimed Johnnie, shaking his 
finger at Bee. 

“ I didn’t say that she was,” retorted Bee, pertly ; 
“ but she is making a silk quilt to give herself for a 
wedding-present. There are so many things she says 
we mustn’t tell that I forget half of them. We 
must not tell that she blacks her hair; but she never 
said that we mustn’t tell that she blacks her boots.” 

“Aunt Mary writes poetry for ministers, and wed- 


86 


Gems Without Polish. 


dings, and newspapers,” said Jolinnie. “May is po- 
etrifying, too.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” asked May, with a mis- 
chievous look at her brother. 

“Why, poetrifying is turning into a poet, just as 
• petrifying is turning into a stone. Uncle Dick showed 
us some wood that was turning into rock ; he said it 
was petrifying.” 

“ I’ll show you my picture, now,” said Bee. “ I'd 
give you one of my photographs if you had an album 
to put it in. Have you ? ” 

“Ho,” answered Chester; “but I’ll buy one at the 
pawnshop if I can only have your picture.” 

“I doesn’t has to pay to have my pictures took, 
’cause I’s so pretty,” said Bess. 

“ There, Bess ! how left-handed you do talk ! ” cried 
Bee. “ But really, you don’t know any better. You 
ought to talk as I do, long as I has always took care of 
you.” 

“ Yes, I guess so ! ” exclaimed Johnnie. “ Ma said 
tliat when you were a little tiny girl, and Bess was a 
baby in your cradle, you were so angry to have her 
there that you lifted her out, sot her on the floor, and 
got into it yourself.” 

Bee was anxious to turn the conversation. She be- 
gan to display her box of valentines, and to tell the 
cost of every article in the room, so far as she knew. 

Pretty soon Bess asked very innocently ; “ Did ’oo 
ever see a Bible, Daisy ? Doesn’t ’oo want to ’ook at 
ours? ” 

“ We have a dozen of them,” boasted Bee ; “ one is 
a reverend edition.” 

“ Revised, you mean,” corrected May. 


The Dows and the Lovells. 


87 


‘‘No, I’m right; it says on the cover, KEY Edi- 
tion, and Uncle Dick told me one time that Rev. in 
front of Mr. King’s name stood for reverend ; and 
Uncle Dick knows every thing; he knows more than 
the dictionary, for Johnnie looked into the dictionary 
one time to see who Longfellow was, and he could 
not find out there, but Uncle Dick told him. He told 
me all about George Washington, too. I couldn’t 
find his story in the Bible. I guess they forgot to 
put him in the Bible ; but he belongs there, because 
he never told a lie.” 

“ You’ll find George Washington in the almanac,” 
said Johnnie, with a wise look; “ that’s to pay up for 
not putting him into the Bible, I suppose.” 

The large family Bible was now exhibited, and its 
pictures much admired. 

May then played on the organ for the pleasure of 
her guests, who declared that her music was far ahead 
of any hand -organ or minstrel they had ever heard. 
They both wanted to play on the organ. Daisy asked 
May to give her a music lesson every day during the 
country week. 

When all the attractions of the parlor bad been 
examined, Johnnie proposed that Baby Bess should be 
exhibited. 

“ Tell the company how old you are,” he said. 

“Me isn’t old enough to know how old I is; I dess 
I’s half-past three.” 

“ Then tell them who you are.” 

“ I’s me — I is myself.” 

“ But your name ? ” 

“ My front name is Bess ; I is Baby Bess Lovell, half- 
past three years old, Brownville, Massathusetts.” 


88 


Gems Without Polish. 


‘‘O, you darling ! What makes you so little ? ” cried 
Daisy, tossing Bess into the air. 

“ So I tan grow to a g’eat big woman. See, I tan 
to lint on my siggers : 

‘One, two, four, eight, seven — 

All good children grow to heaven.’ ” 

“ Kow, speak your piece,” said May. 

Bess made her bow, and repeated her A B C’s. . 

“ Now say the big words that you cannot say at all,” 
cried Bee. “ Say ‘ funny things.’ ” 

‘‘ Me say sunny sins ? No ! ” 

“ All right,” laughed Bee. “ Now say dictionary.” 

‘‘No, I doesn’t.” 

“ There, Bess, if you talk so ungrammatical, 1 shall 
put a clothes-pin over your mouth, just as sure as 
northin’ ! ” 

“Is your little sister as smart as that?” asked 
Johnnie, proudly. 

“ She might be if we had time to fuss over her. Is 
your father rich ? ” 

“ Yes, he is. He is worth about twenty-live cents ; 
but last year he was kind of poor. I asked him fora 
cent, and he didn’t have any.” 

“Don’t you think the country is just splendid?” 
asked Daisy. “I don’t like the city, it is so people- 
ish.” 

“I like the city best,” answered Johnnie. “But 
weren’t those little darkeys that Mr. King had just 
the cutest little things ! Estelle says they are six years 
old apiece.” 

“ I saw them,” cried Bee. “ And I saw a negro 
man one time with white cobwebs all over his face.” 


The Dows and the Lovells. 


•89 


“ O, no ; they were short gray hairs — whiskers,” 
laughed May. 

‘‘He was a black Hegro,” said Bee; “and Uncle 
Dick talked with him. Uncle Dick can talk Latin 
and Shakespeare and French and politics. He 
studied so much he was sick; he had the scientihc 
rheumatism and the romantic fever.” 

“ Ho, no. Bee ! ” cried May. “ He had the sciatic 
rheumatism and the rheumatic fever.” 

“Did you ever have a tooth pulled outU’ asked 
Chester. 

“ Yes, live of ’em,” answered Bee, with an impor- 
tant air. “ And I guess that is more than you can 
say. But I don’t see why people pull a tooth out 
when it aches any more than they pull an ear off when 
it aches.” 

All laughed. 

“ Have you a bank-book ? ” asked Chester. “ One 
of the boys in our alley has.” 

“I has,” cried Bess. “I pay the man for it every 
time I go to the village. He takes all the money I 
gets in my bank and doesn’t give me anything for it; 
and I doesn’t like him.” 

“ Do you ever eat between meals ? ” asked Chester. 

“ Papa ’lows us to eat berries and fruit when they 
are ripe,” replied Bee. “ He says it would be too 
bad for us to see them every-where and know that we 
can’t have them. But when they are gone, it is ‘close 
time,’ and we can’t eat a mouthful only at the table. 
I s’pose you asked ’cause you wanted something to 
eat. My ! aint you thin ! ” 

“ There ! your Aunt Mary told me not to use slang, 
and what are you doing?” 


90 ' 


Gems Without Polish. 


“ Bee doesn’t know that she is using slang,” ex- 
plained May. “So you must excuse her. She often 
says what she ought not to, but she is a good-hearted 
little thing.” 

Bee was proud. She drew away from her sister. 

“Well, I wouldn’t be as good as yon are. May 
Lovell. It’s too bad you could not have lived with 
Adam and Samuel and Peter, so they could have put 
you in the Bible. But all the country-week folks are 
thin, so there ! They’d make nice living skeletons 
for a play circus.” 

“We’ve got a little horse ; his name is Colt,” said 
Bess, “and some black Negro sheeps. We’ll show 
’em too ’oo when ’tisn’t so hot out-doors and ’oo are 
rested.” 

“ Who are the Lady’s-Delights that you have spoken 
of so often ? ” asked Daisy. 

“ That is our Ten Times One is Ten Club,” replied 
May. 

“ What an odd name ! What does it mean ?” 

“ I'll tell you,” cried Chester, eagerly. “ There 
were two men, an Edward Everett Hale and a Harry 
Wadsworth. One thought he would write a book 
about the other. I guess Wadsworth wrote about 
Hale, because they call the clubs that the book started 
the Wadsworth Clubs.” 

“ No ; Harry AVadsworth was the man in the book,” 
interrupted Bee. “ And the story begins with his 
funeral. I know, for mamma told me the story.” 

“ If the book begins with his funeral, it must tell 
what he did in heaven,” observed Daisy. “ What a 
nice story this must be, to tell of all the beautiful 
things that angels do!” 


The Dows and the Lovells. 


91 


It’s a great deal nicer to know of the beautiful 
things that people do ! ” was May’s quick response. 
“ ‘ Ten Times One is Ten ’ gives us a great many of 
them. Harry Wadsworth was a young man who was 
always doing kind deeds, at any time or place. Ten 
persons whom he had helped had come from their 
distant homes to his funeral ; after which they were 
waiting for the train, wdiich happened to be very late. 
They got to talking of their friend and how he had 
brightened their lives. They made up their minds 
to carry on his good work and to see how many 
persons they could tind whose lives had been in- 
fluenced by Harry Wadsworth. This was the first 
club of the kind, and this its first and only meeting. 
Dr. Hale shows that, if ten persons should come to- 
gether, and each agree to lend a hand to somebody 
else, and to induce him to do the same to another, in 
twenty-seven years the whole world wdll ‘ be made a 
world of faith and hope and love.’ Don’t you see ? 
10x1=10; 10x10=100; 10x100=1,000; 10x1,000-= 
10,000; 10X10,000=100,000; 10x100,000=1,000,000; 
10x1,000,000=10,000,000 ; 10x10,000,000=100,000,- 
000; and 10x100,000,000=1,000,000,000, the popula- 
tion of the world ! 

“I used to think *ten times one is ten’ was in 
arithmetic, and— I tell you what— that’s the jolliest 
problem in it you ever saw! The w^ay to cipher it 
out is just to forget yourself, except when you see 
any one that you can help; then to remember that 
you were born to lend a hand. My 1 how good Bee 
has been since she joined the ten ! ” 

‘‘Do you take such little children into your club?” 
asked Daisy. 


92 


Gems Without Polish. 


“ Bee and Bess and the minister’s little girl wanted 
to join,” answered May, “ so we let them, for our ten 
would not be full without them. Then no one can 
begin too young to lend a hand. I take most of tlie 
care of Bess, so would have to take her to our meet- 
ings anyway, and it pleases her to know that she is 
one of our number. Come, darling; tell Daisy what 
the Harry Wadsworth mottoes are.” 

Bess stood in one coimer and repeated : 

*• Look up and not down ; 

Look forward and not back ; 

Look out and not in ; 

Lend a hand.” 

“ We fellows have a ten, too,” said Jolinnie. “We 
are the Knights. First we clubbed together just for 
fun. But when our folks wanted us to behave our- 
selves because the city company were coming, we 
thought we’d be a Ten Times One is Ten Club and try 
a new kind of fun. We used to be fighting Knights, 
now we’re the Knights of Malta kind. There were 
six of us to begin witii ; Mr. King is the seventh, be- 
cause he says the way to keep the boys in the Sun- 
day school is to play base-ball with ’em once in 
a while, and to see what we’re doin’. Tom Waring 
makes the eighth ; Tom’s a foo— I mean he hasn’t as 
many brains as I have. We took him in to keep him 
from stealing our fathers’ apples. We used to lick 
him for doing tliat. My, how big he felt — to have a 
pledge card and to be in our set ! But you can’t 
guess who is No. 9.” 

No one could. 

“ It’s- Frank’s old horse that his father gave him ! ” 

All laughed. Bather a mixed ten ! 


The Dows and the Lovells. 


93 


“ But we couldn’t find a fellow for the place, and 
we are going to give sick people a ride Avitli the old 
mare — all the countr j-weekers, too ; and we are go- 
ing to carry Mrs. Coit’s washings round for her, 
so she wont have to. Now, Chester, you must be 
No. 10.” 

“ Maybe so ; but I’m only going to stay here for 
ten days.” 

“Ten days! That’s a real Wadsworth number. 
Ha, there are ten Knights now. Ten times one is ten. 
Soon we’ll be One Thousand and One Knights. 
There; Mr. King said the One Thousand and One 
Nights were just nights when people told stories!” 

“ I’ve heard some of ’em,” cried Bee. “ They are 
Mother Goose stories for grown-up people.” 

Johnnie shook Chester’s hand. 

“ How are you. Sir Dow ? I’m Lord Lovell. We’ll 
initiate you at our next meeting in Bradley’s barn. 
Frank is our president, and sits on the saw-horse.” 

The dinner-bell now rang. 

“ Hurrah ! ” shouted Chester. 

“ Come, sir knights, aren’t you going to escort 
your ladies to the table?” asked May. 

Johnnie offered her his arm. Chester, “ hungry as 
a bear,” as he expressed it, rushed shouting into the 
dining-room. 


94 


Gems Without Polish. 


CHAPTEK YIL 

THE RECEPTION. 

“ But when thou makest a feast, call the poor, the maimed, the 
halt, and the blind : and thou slialt be blessed ; for they cannot 
recompense thee : for thou shalt be recompensed at the resurrection 
of the just.” 

At two o’clock the Laclj’s-Deliglits, the Knights, 
many of their parents, and all the conntry-w^eekers, 
had gathered in the large new barn. 

The building had been completed for a week, hut 
Mr. Jennings still kept his cattle in the old barn that 
this one might be at the disposal of the young 
people. 

He had filled the mows with new hay, however, 
wdiose fragrance was delightful. Through the open 
doors at either end breezes entered, bringing with 
them the breath of the fields and forests through which 
they had been joui’neying. 

The stalls, used as j)laces of safety for the eatables, 
w^ere partitioned off with flags. 

Cedar trimmings decorated the rafters, and wreaths 
of evergreen hung at the windows. 

Each of the Lady’s-Delights had furnished a motto 
— “I am the bread of life,” “Eat, drink, and be 
merry,” and such like. 

Bee insisted on having “ The Reception ” hung 
over one of the doors, and Bess wanted “ Welcome” 
over the other. 


The Reception. 


95 


Estelle would have a Bible text, namely, “ Whatso- 
ever is set before you, eat, asking no question for 
conscience’ sake.” Jeanie, who made this motto for 
Estelle, could not induce her to change it for one 
more appropriate. 

Two long tables occupied the center of the barn ; 
chairs and benches were placed here and there in a 
home-like fashion. 

The committee on entertainment included all the 
Brown vi lie people present. 

Hortense had loaned her croquet-set and lawn- 
tennis for the occasion. The Knights had bought a 
foot-ball, and had made other provisions for “ fun.” 
The Lady’s-Delights had brought many toys to the 
reception — dolls, carts, etc. 

Paul’s ring-toss was much en joyed by all, especially 
when Bess stood up and they tried to throw the rings 
over her head. 

What a pretty picture — a small yellow ring caught 
like a golden crown among her curls, a larger ring 
draped like a sash over her loose white dress ; several 
various-colored rings lying carelessly at her feet ; her 
merry laugh and chatter adding to the novelty ! 

Miss Rachel Andrews had passed the preceding 
week in manufacturing a dozen kites from bright 
paper that had been collecting at her home for the 
last twenty-five years. She distributed these among 
the city children, with man}^ instructions and warnings. 

Then the swings and hammocks, how the little 
people enjoj^ed them ! To avoid any quarreling Aunt 
Mary was obliged to cut several sheets of note-paper 
into tickets, which she placed in the hands of Philip. 
Each ticket entitled a child to a five-minute swing. 


96 


Gems Without Polish. 


The Ladj’s-Delights liad made oat a list of games 
for tlie day — “London bridge,” “Pm in the king’s 
land,” “Button, button,” and many others, mostly 
old-fashioned, in which the men and women heartily 
joined. Some of the old ladies suggested the kissing 
games and pawns of their younger days, but Mr. King 
opposed this proposal. 

“ Let’s play ‘ blind-man’s-buff,’ ” cried Effie Pitkin. 

“ But it might make Laura Angell feel badly,” an- 
s\5j!ered Mollie. “ Just think of us playing we are 
blind when she knows how hard it is to be really 
blind!” 

This settled the question. 

Kever had the city children enjoyed “ tag” as they 
now did, with so fine a chance for running ; and 
“ hide^and-coop ” wore a new charm for them as they 
hid behind beautiful trees and mossy fences instead 
of in dark alleys and behind old boxes. 

Captain Boberts gave the boys and girls lessons in 
tying all sorts of sailor-knots, meanwhile entertaining 
them with stories of his life at sea. 

ISTear the middle of the afternoon Mr. Woolridge 
drove by with a load of hay, and told the children to 
“ pile on.” They gladly did so. What sport ! The 
boys were not afraid of falling off — of course not. 
But the girls — poor things ! — scarcely dared to move. 
However, they imagined they were circus ladies rid- 
ing in one of Barnum’s chariots ; and when Mr. 
Wool ridge’s barn was reached they were as ready as 
the boys to pitch the hay on to the mows. 

Aslhe hay-rick returned down the road the children 
called their older friends to “ jump aboard.” They 
did, and, as the care-worn women joined in the songs 


The Reception. 


97 


and laughter of the little people, they imagined that 
they were children once more in their father’s hay- 
fields. 

“So you want to climb my mows!” exclaimed 
Mr. eTennings in his grutf way to those who were not 
with Mr. Woolridge. “ All right ! Don’t care if the 
hay is spoilt for the cattle. I've been a boy, and 
know what a tumble on the haymow means. So go 
ahead 1 ” 

Then such a scrambling up the ladders! Such 
somersaults ! Such shouts from the mows ! Such 
shrieks from frightened motliers below ! 

As Mr. Jennings was showing the live-stock in 
his old barn a little black pig got loose from his pen 
and ran out of the barn-door. 

“A dime for the boy who will catch him !” cried 
Dr. Murray. 

Boys and girls raced after the frightened pig across 
the yard, down the road, through the field, over the 
pasture. How he squealed ! How he cut corners 
and dodged under fences ! 

At last Fred Stan wood headed him off, and Hed 
Gray caught him. Each victor received five cents. 

The children next amused themselves in playing 
“knife,” in seeing how far they could walk on their 
heels, in telling and guessing riddles, and in taking 
walks over the farm in search of berries and wild 
flowers. 

Every few moments they would leave their play 
for a march round the tables, which the ladies were 
loading with all sorts of dainties ; the savor of the 
food was more pleasing to the hungry boys and girls 
than was the fragrance of the flowers. 

7 


98 


Gems Without Polish. 


“ Aint tliese victuals the best thing you’ve seen in 
the country ? ” asked Ira. 

“ Just think, tliey are for us ! ” exclaimed Ben. 

“ I wonder what’s the name of that kind of vict- 
uals,” said Lizzie Kellett. 

Mysterious looking bundles, large baskets, and well- 
heaped plates were constantly coming in from friends 
who could not be present. The children wanted to 
peek into them all. Why shouldn’t they ! But this 
was impertinent, so Miss Bachel thought ; and took 
it upon herself to see tliat nothing was disturbed. 
Would it be too uncharitable to surmise that her real 
object was to see for herself wlio brought one dish 
and who another ? 

“ Truth is stranger than fiction.” So thought all 
who viewed Mr. King’s live Punch-and-Judy show. 
What ! the parson’s ? Certainly. He held a twin on 
each knee, and their antics were — well, they were 
indescribable. 

As soon as the twins were running over the barn 
again Frank Brady appeared with an old pair of bel- 
lows, on which he had painted Fresh- air Fund.” 
He injected the nose of these into Abe’s mouth and 
began to “ blow him up.” But after a wliile his honor 
preferred to take the fresh air in the natural way. 

The twins soon retired to a secluded spot, where 
Bess joined them. 

“Does ’oo mamma ’low ’oo to have ’oor face so 
soily?” she asked, taking a long look at the little 
Negroes. 

“ Our faces am clean, but we’s niggers ! ” answered 
Abraham Lincoln, rolling his great eyes at Bess. 

“ Did ’oo det all tanned up in the city?” 


The Keception. 


99 


“ No ; I saj we’s niggers.” Abe stamped Iiis foot. 

“ Wliat makes ’oo black ? and is ’oor mamma black ? ” 

‘•We giwed black,” replied James Garlield. 
“ Course our mammy is black.” 

“Well, Ts glad Dod did not div’ me to a black 
muzzer — ” Bess drew a long breath, then asked, 
“ What makes ’oo have such long names ? ” 

“ I is named for a man that was shooted,” explained 
James Garfield, “and Abe, he’s named for Abr’am 
Lincoln, de fust president de Negroes ever had, so dad 
.saj^s. I b’lieve he had a son Isaac he was agoin’ to 
sac — sacrifice, but de Lord told him not to. But take 
hold o’ my hand, little missie, and I’ll take ye where dar 
is some posies.” 

Bess clasped both hands behind her back. 

“O, I’ll det my darling, dimpled handle all smutty 
if I touch ’oors.” 

“ My hands aint smutty,” retorted the little fellow, 
indignantly. “ Dey’s as white as yourn on de inside, 
so am Abe’s.” 

Four little hands were held up for inspection. Bess 
was satisfied that they were white on the inside. Then, 
giving a hand to each of the twins, she walked between 
them to the garden near Mr. Jennings’s well. 

After tlie fiowers had been examined, James Gar- 
field asked, “ Aint you dot a cent to div’ me? ” 

“ No, I’ve not,” answered Bess, tartly. “ ’Tisn’t 
p’lite to ask for cents. I send mine to Bishop Tay- 
lor’s heathen Negroes, that auntie tells me ’bout. So 
there ! ” 

“Waal ! ” — with a long breath — “ we’ll be heathen 
niggers if you will div’ us a cent, but dar aint-any store 
where we can spend it. Dad says we was little heathen, 


100 


Gems Without Polish. 


’cause we didn’t learn our Bible verses, but he’s done 
gone got heaps o’ ’ligion ; he caught it of a minister 
down in South ’liny.” 

“ ’Go’s the niggerest ’ittle nigger I ever seed, and 
I’ll not kiss ’oo. The both of ’oo is homely. But what 
makes ’oo turn ’oor face away, Jimmie?” 

’Cause you don’t like liomely folks ; and I don’t 
want you to see how black de face am.” 

“ But ’oor hair is blacker, and it is laughing in ’ittle 
turls all over ’oor head. Didn’t ’oo ever try to whiten 
’oor face ? ” 

“We neber did,” answered Abraham, “ but I have 
hearn daddy tell liow he chalked liis face as white as 
any one’s when he was a chap.” 

“Wont the sun fade ’oo out the way it faded my 
pink dress all white?” inquired Bess. 

“ Guess not.” Abraham shook his liead doubtfully. 
“ Guess not. Dar was a girl, a Fresh-air Funder, what 
libed nigh us, and when she done got back from de 
country she was as black as we. The sun made her 
so. Tell ye what it am. Line : let us keep under cober 
dis week so as not to grow any more niggerish.” 

“ Tan’t the rain wash the black off of ’oo ? ” queried 
Bess. 

“No,” sighed James Garfield. “Mammy has 
been out in heaps o’ rain and she’s blacker dan a 
crow.” 

“ Mr. Parker has a scarecrow in his corn-field,” said 
Bess, “ his face is as black as ’oors — the scarecrow’s, I 
mean — only it’s made out of cloth and he is stuffed 
with straw.” 

“ I wish I was stuffed with dera ere apples,” cried 
Abraham, pointing to a tree. 


The Reception. 


101 


‘‘ So does I,” chimed in Jimmie. “My ! aint dis a 
lubly world to lib in ! ” 

“ Ess it is,” answered Bess. “ But ’oo wont be lovely, 
and I wont kiss ’oo till ’oor faceis white. But O ! O ! 
01 I know what will white ’oo out ! The water in this 
well ; tause its minewal.” 

• “Goody! I’ll try it,” cried James, joyfully. “How 
mammy will laf to see me a white color. Pump aw^ay, 
’ittle missie.” 

Bess pumped with all her might until the trough 
was filled.' “Now, dive ’oor heads in there till ’oor 
turls are as white as mine, and the black peeling comes 
off ’oor face.” 

- The twins were soon shaking their heads round in 
the water in high glee. 

James Garfield was the first to lift his head. 

“My stars!” he cried. “The water drowns me 
eyes and goes into me ears and nose and mouf. Dey 
don’t need washing, ’cause dey aint black on de inside. 
I has to drink de water and I’s not thirsty, and it don’t 
taste good. Wish de w^ater would know what wants 
to be washed.” 

“ ’Oo said a naughty swear word,” cried Bess, “and 
I’ll not kiss ’oo, even if the black comes off.” 

“But folks didn’t say we’d got to leave off slaiig 
'words. I didn’t swear. Dad don’t ’low it. But I’ll 
not slang it any more.” 

Jimmie made another dive into the trough. 

Abraham now lifted his head and asked, “ Am de 
black gone yet. Hopes it is, ’cause de water goes all 
ober me, and de eyes and nose and mouf has to keep 
spitting it out.” 

“ No; ’oo’s black as the stove,” answered Bess, mourn- 


102 


Gems Without Polish. 


fully ; then, in a more hopeful tone, she added, “ But 
keep ’oor eyes and mouth all shuttered, and put ’oor 
hands over ’oor ears and nose, then the water wont get 
in, and the black will come off.” 

‘‘All right!” 

He followed directions perfectly. 

As his head went into the trough again his brotli- 
er’s came out. 

“ Is I as white and pooty as you, now ? ” asked Jim- 
mie. 

Bess had to laugh as she gazed at the dripping fig- 
ure before her. 

“ ’Oo pretty as me ! why, ’oo doesn’t ’ook fit to ’ook 
at ! I s’pose as soon as 1 puts my eyes to s’eep to- 
night I’ll dwearn of ’oo and^it will make me snore.” 

‘‘Waal, no more o’ dat water for me ! I’ll die, sure 
’nuff, if I’s a fish any longer.” 

“ So I says ! ” echoed Abe, again emerging from 
the trough. “O, dear! we have spoiled our new 
suits. What will mammy say? Ho more o’ dis for 
me ! ” 

“ Don’t div’ up!” exclaimed Bess. “If oo tan’t 
breathe out o’ ’oor mouths when they are in the water, 
put ’oor face in up to ’oor ears and breathe out o’ 
them.” 

“Don’t b’lieve folks ever could breathe through 
their ears.” 

The little fellow pulled his ears as if to test their 
durability. 

“ Why not? ’Oo breathes through the hole in ’oor 
mouth, and there are two holes in ’oor ears. You can 
breathe in with one ear and out with the other.” 

“ Sure ’nuff ! ” 


The E,f:ception. 


103 


The twins followed this unique advice. But the 
experiment only lasted for a moment. Both declared 
they’d have to give up because “ the breaths wouldn’t 
go through their ears.” 

‘‘Their I’ll borrow^ some one’s ’ankerchief and mb 
the black off,” cried Bess. “’Oo must be white else 
’oo’ll frighten my dollies. I don’t b’lieve Dod meant 
for ’oo to be so black.” 

Bess ran to the barn and soon returned with Mr. 
King’s fine linen handkerchief. She had not taken 
time to tell him the use she meant to make of it. She 
immediately began work upon Abraham’s face, which 
was somewhat soiled, notwithstanding- its frequent 
baths in the trough. Of course, the dirt was readily 
transferred from his face to the handkerchief, which 
she held up, exclaiming, ‘‘ I’s right! Fs right! The 
black is coming off! See the ’ankerchief! ” 

The twins laughed, danced about, and clapped their 
wet hands. 

“ What wonderful water mineral water am ! ” ex- 
claimed James Garfield. “ Folks can’t call us niggers 
no more.” 

“ Den dey’ll call us faded-out niggers, or backslid- 
den darkies,” observed Abraham. 

Bess now gave a vigorous rubbing to Jimmie’s face. 
His faOe was dirtier than his brother’s. 

‘^Now, this am ’culia!” cried Abraham, as he run 
both hands through his dripping curls. “ De hand- 
kerchief grows blacker but Jim’s face don’t grow no 
whiter. P’r’aps only one layer will come off at once 
and de next layer may be dried on.” 

“ O, the ’ankerchief is all wet,” cried Bess, wring- 
ing the water from it. “ I’ll get anuzzer layer off 


104 


Gems Without Polish. 


to-morrow. If I hurted ’oo I’ll give ’oo my Dinah doll 
to pay np, ’tanse folks may think I’s a l^egro if my 
dollie is.” 

“ We don’t want dolls ” answered Jimmie, indig- 
nantly. “ But dar’s ye mammy coming.” 

“Why, children ! How did you get your clothes 
so wet?” asked Mrs. Lovell, as she looked on the 
dripping trio.” 

Bess explained matters, ending with : “ But I 

wanted to do something nice for the tuntry-weekers, 
as well as the rest of the ten ; and the twins wanted 
to be white more than any thing else.” 

“You’re rio-ht! ” exclaimed Jimmie. “AVe’s been 
niggers long ’nulf, and want a change. She done 
gone and got some black otf already. She wont kiss 
us tilt we’s white.” 

How Mrs. Lovell laughed when the handkerchief 
was displayed. 

After explaining how the black came on the hand- 
kerchief, she remarked : “You little boys should not 
try to be different from what God has made you. 
We can never change his work. If you have clean, 
pure hearts in this world, when you get to the next 
your faces will be as beautiful as those of any of the 
saints and angels.” 

“O, mamma! wont there be any black angels in 
heaven? How can I tell the twins, then, when I 
meet them ? ” 

“ O, you’ll know them. But all come home now 
and change your clothes. Chester has two old suits 
that will just lit you twins.” 

The trio were taken to Mrs. Lovell’s home, which 
was near by. They soon returned in fresh wardrobes. 


The Keception. 


105 


Mrs. Lovell then gave an amusing description of 
the twins’ immersion to an interested audience. 

Maj Lovell and Laura Angell became friends at 
once. 

“ I am going to stay with you all the afternoon,’’ 
began May ; “ because you are— because I want to.” 

“ Because I am blind, you were going to say ; and 
why didn’t you ? ” 

“ I want you to forget all about it while you are in 
the country,” answered May, very softly. 

‘‘ But I never thought about it so much as I do to- 
day. Every body is talking of the beautiful things 
they see, and telling me to look at them. They for- 
get I am blind ; but you don’t seem like the others. 
I can’t help crying ; I want to see the flowers and trees 
so much ! ” 

In her gentle way May wiped the tears from the 
sightless eyes of the young girl, then from her own. 

She took the' little thin hand, and said, ‘‘Come, 
Laura, let us go out under the trees and have a nice 
talk all to ourselves.” 

“How did you know my name?” asked Laura, as 
May led her out into the orchard. 

“Mrs. Bolton told me. When I found out that 
you could not — I mean, who you were, I wished that 
you could have been my company instead of hers. I 
was watching you all the time at the station.” 

“How I wish I could watch you, too! You are so 
thoughtful, and don’t ask all sorts of questions about 
my eyes.” 

The two were now seated under one of the apple* 
trees. 

“I will lead you anywhere you wish to go,” said 


106 Gems Without Polish. 

May, “and tell you of all the pretty tilings you hear 
the other children talking about.’’ 

“But they don’t talk about the things Flove best.” 

May slipped an arm around her friend. 

“ O Laura, do you love Jesus ? ” 

A light brighter than the sunshine that was bath- 
ing yonder meadow crept into the little pale face. 
This was all the answer needed. 

“I am so glad!” exclaimed May. “Why, I can 
almost see Jesus in your face.” 

“ O May — isn’t that your name ? — I knew that you 
loved Jesus as soon as I heard you speak. Isn’t he 
precious ? ” 

“ So precious ! How nice we can both have him 1 ” 

“Yes. And I always feel at home where Jesus 
and his friends are. Are you a little girl? ” 

“ JS^ot exactly. I am seventeen years old ; but I pass 
for a little girl when I feel like it. Isn’t Jesus a great 
deal of company for you, since you canT go round 
like other girls?” 

“Indeed he is; and such good company. I think 
I love hini all the more because I see nothing to take 
my mind from him. Just think, his face will be the 
first one I shall ever see. And I shall see mamma, 
too, in heaven — she died when I was a baby. And I 
shall see you there too.” 

“ O, Laura, I thought you liked to talk about such 
things ! ” cried May. 

“I might be discontented,” continued Laura, “if I 
could see the dark, ding}" room where grandma and I 
live. There isn’t a single picture or ornament in it. 
One of the ladies that grandma works for has a little 
blind boy. She has fitted up a beautiful room for 


The Reception. 


107 


him, and it makes her feel all the sadder to know tliat 
he can’t see any of his pretty things. If I was rich 
I might be tempted to complain, you see ; so may be 
it is best for me to be as I am.” 

“ God must be pleased to hear you say that. Of 
course it is his will for you to be as you are. 

“ So I think. Sometimes I thank him that I am 
blind, and can’t see the wickedness of our alley ; it is 
bad enough to hear the oaths and low talk whenever 
w’e ©pen a window for a breath of air. How sweet 
tliis.air is, and how beautifully the birds sing! The 
country must be a great deal like heaven ? ” 

‘‘ My Aunt Mary says she thinks heaven is where 
people love to talk about Jesus. I know that we 
come^across a little of heaven very often down here. 
Dun’t you suppose you will enjoy heaven more than 
the rest of us because you have never seen any of 
the beautiful tilings of this world? just as these chil- 
dren from Boston are now enjoying the fields and 
flowers more than the country children do, because 
they have never seen them before.” 

Certainly. How good of you to talk that way ! 
The charity ladies always say it is such a shame that I 
am blind. They examine me as if I was on exhibi- 
tion at a circus. It seems as if you were talking just 
as Jesus would if he was here. I never met any one 
like you before.” 

‘‘ Here comes my little sister Bess,” broke in May. 

“ See my posies 1 ” cried Bess, thrusting them to- 
ward Laura. I’ll div’ ’oo one of ’em. Which ’oo 
want ; the red one or the blue ? ” 

O, what pretty, pretty flowers ! ” answered Laura. 
“ You can give me the blue one.” 


108 


Gems Without Polish. 


Then take it.” 

Laura was about to take the red flower. 

Bess drew lier hand back, explaining : Why, ’oo’s 
taking the other one. Tan’t ’oo see ? ” 

No, darling, I can’t see ; but I can love the flow- 
ers just tlie same, and tlie good God who made them. 
How fragrant they are ! ” 

“ What ’oo got eyes for if ’oo tan’t see with ’em ? ” 

“ Every one has eyes. How funny 1 would look 
without them ! ” 

“ Did Dod fordet to put any seeing in ’em ? ” 

“I can’t tell about that; but when I get to God’s 
beautiful home I shall have a new pair of eyes, and 
I can see the sweet flowers and other pretty things 
that God has there.” 

‘‘ But Dod has lots of pretty things down here ; 
touldn’t ’oo see ’em if ’oo should put on glasses ? 
Dam’ma taut see much without glasses.” 

I guess not,” laughed Laura. “ How nice that 
May has such a dear little sister, and can see her ! 
Can’t you give me a kiss?” 

Bess gave her one, 

“ I’d div’ ’oo one o’ my eyes if I tould det it out. 
But I’ll see all the pretty sins for ’oo. Why, ’oo 
don’t have to shut ’oor eyes to make it dark when’oo 
goes to sleep ; does ’oo ? ” 

‘‘Yes, I shut them just as you shut yours. Yes, 
dear, I shall want you to see all the pretty things 
you can for me, because if I could see I should try 
to only look at pleasant sights. So, when people ask 
you to look at what your mamma would rather you 
would not see, remember that you are doing my see- 
ing for me.” 


The Rpxeption. 


109 


“ All right ; but if Dod loves ’oo what made him 
div’ ^00 an old worn-out pair o’ eyes ? ” 

“ He knew what was best for me. And if I can’t 
see I can hear better than any of your friends can. 
I would like to have these birds singing near my 
home.” 

“ But ’oo has the hand organs.” 

“ ITes, and one of them once played under my 
window all one afternoon. The street boys hired 
him to do so, for they pitied me because 1 could not 
go out and see the bands and Uncle Tom’s possessions. 
One little fellow went without his supper to pay his 
share.” 

“ What’s Uncle Tom ? ’oor uncle? ” 

O, no ; but here is grandma. O grandma, here is 
May ; I don’t know her last name, but she loves 
Jesus.” 

Mrs. Rochester sat down under the tree and joined 
in the conversation. 

During the entire afternoon the usual hospitality 
of rural gatherings was every-where noticeable. The 
farmers’ wives discussed their guests and exchanged 
ideas on entertaining them. The city children were 
delighted because the country children had worn their 
best clothes on their account. The older guests were 
surprised at the courtesy they received, and made up 
their minds to treat their friends more politely in the 
future. 

Mrs. Boid and Mrs. Sturgis retired to a seat under 
the large horse-chestnut and just rested. The sick 
babies in their arms drew in new life with every 
breath of the fresh country air. 

Addie Wright discussed housekeeping and family 


110 Gems Without Polish. 

affairs with the Brownville people in a most amusing 
fashion. 

Little Harold was one of the chief attractions of the 
day, to the delight of his young mother. But Miss 
Bachel couldn’t see why sensible people should lose 
their senses over a “young one.” When she learned, 
however, that he was stopping at Mrs. Rankin’s, she 
deigned to put on her gold-bowed spectacles to look 
at the cherub, and to take him in her arms. But, 
alas ! he pulled the front wig half off her head and 
disclosed the scanty gray hairs that, for the last fifty 
years, she had been trying to conceal. 

Mrs. Rankin came to the reception to please 
Hortense. She had never before mingled with the 
people of Brownville, but now greatly enjoyed their 
company. 

During the latter part of the afternoon the pro- 
cession increased in the march around the tables. 

The tables were set with plain white china ; here 
and there an old-fashioned dish or a bouquet of garden- 
flowers brightened the effect. 

Both dinner and desert had been placed upon the 
tables, that the poor guests, for once in their lives, 
might see sufficient food set before them. A roasted 
pig occupied the center of each table. Some of the 
missionary hens and chickens had been sacrificed for 
the feast. There w^as also an abundance of roast- 
beef, lamb, cold tongue, ham, eggs served in all ways, 
potatoes, string-beans, green peas, cucumbers, brown 
bread and baked beans, twisted dough-nuts, large 
sheets of ginger-bread, puddings and jues, cakes and 
tarts, sauces and jellies, fresh berries, and — what not? 

At six o’clock, all the younger children washed 


The Reception. 


Ill 


their hands and faces in the basins Mrs. Jennings had 
brought to the well for that purpose. 

Then the supper bell. The songs of the birds — 
what were they now ? The beauties of nature— what 
charms did these now possess ? All marched quietly 
to their allotted seats at the table. The benches had 
been previously marked off and numbered, and a num- 
ber given to each person. 

Mr. King asked the blessing — the first that many 
of the city children had ever listened to — and then 
Mrs. Lovell, having had no previous experience in 
charitable suppers, told them to help themselves. 

What a commotion ! The farmers’ wives, who had 
observed faultless manners among their guests at the 
noon time meal, looked on in astonishment. The city 
bo3'S and girls reached half-way across the table for 
food, waved their knives and forks in the air, and 
stood up to see what was at the other end of the 
table. 

Ira snatched up a cookey in one hand, a biscuit in 
the other ; which disappeared first it would be hard 
to say. 

Mollie Pitkin ate all the jelly from one tart, then 
began a similar operation upon another. 

Minnie George drew a plate of lemon cakes toward 
her, with the intention of eating them all. 

Little Percy Wright just gazed at the food and 
exclaimed, “ O ! O ! O ! ” 

Belle had taken possession of the sugar-bowl, and 
was having a feast all to herself. 

Jack Snow peeked through the hole of a large 
doughnut at the boys on the other side of the table. 

As soon as Mr. King could be heard, he shouted, 


112 


Gems Without Polish. 


“My dear boys and girls, listen a moment. When 
Mrs. Lovell told you to help yourselves she meant 
just what she said. But you must eat your hearty 
food first ; then the pies and cakes will taste all the 
better. Dr. Murray and I will carve the pigs and 
meats. Whenever you wish for any thing you can- 
not reach, raise your hands and keep them up until 
one of the waiters comes to you. The waiters are the 
girls who have a bunch of ladies’ -delights in their 
button-holes. The boj^s who have thistle leaves 
pinned to their coats will bring you lemonade, water, 
tea, coffee, or cocoa. Now try to be a little quieter, 
and see if you cannot eat up every thing.” 

Quite an undertaking ; yet the hungry boys and 
girls were good for it. 

Fred Stan wood and Ira, busy as they were with 
their feasting, carried on the following conversa- 
tion : 

“Say, Ira, did you ever see the time afore when 
your dinner was bigger than your stomach ?” 

“No, sir! And we’re goin’ to have all we can eat 
while we stay here. This is my idea of heaven.” 

“ Mine, too. But I’ll dare you to eat ten of them 
cookies.” 

And I’ll do it ; but what are you laughin’ at ? ” 

“ To see you stuffing yourself. Ha-ha ! Did you 
bring an extra stomach ? ” 

“ No, but I brought extra pockets — and I am going 
to fill tliem, too. This seems like a real presidential 
’ception. I feels like a politician.” 

“ Don’t it thougli 1 But I don’t b’lieve presidents 
have such fine sausages and doughnuts at their rack- 
ets. My ! I don’t wonder folks — the women and all 


The liECEPTioN. 


113 


— want to be the president, if their ’ceptions are like 
this. But what ails jour appetite ? You’ll faint away 
if you’re so bashful as not to eat ! ” 

“ Ha-ha ! I’m so faint I can’t stop to spread my 
bread. Will have to eat it raw — way I does at home. 
See that Ben Gray. He has raised his plate four 
times and asked for some of all every time. Say, did 
you ever know Thanksgiving to come in summer, 
afore ? ” 

“ Ha-ha ! but I can’t stop to joke. Didn’t the Lord 
do a good thing when he made the country, and the 
country-week too ? ” 

Yes, sir ! and to think we’d ever come to this. 
My, aint it jolly ! ” 

The girls were equally appreciative. “I wish my 
sister was here,” observed Blanche Howe. ‘‘It seems 
as if there is more food on this table than we have had 
in our house for a whole year.” 

“ Every thing tastes better to me,” said Addie, “be- 
cause the dishes are all whole and the table-cloth clean ; 
then I like a change from my own cooking. And just 
think of us having gravy for our potatoes, and people 
to vyait on us ! ” 

“ And the supper was got up just for us,” remarked 
Effie Pitkin. “ I never saw people sit down to dinner 
before and not quarrel over their food, until to-day at 
Mrs. Woolridge’s. But, Belle, please give me some 
of those preserves, if you please, to arrange on my 
bread.” 

Effie tried to be very polite. 

But Belle did not care to give up the tumbler of 
preserves of which she had taken full possession. 
When Addie told her that she must eat some bread 
8 


114 


Gems Without Polish. 


with her preserves, she answered, “ I finks ’serves is 
good ’nnfi without bread, and a little much more wont 
hurt me.” 

Thus the guests ate, and ate, and ate, until Dr. Mur- 
ray feared he would be kept unusually busy on the 
morrow. 

Still there was more to follow. At the very last 
moment, Mrs. Kankin’s groom appeared with a large 
basket of fruits and sweetmeats. What shouts greeted 
him ! 

Mr. King made an after dinner speech : 

‘‘ Dear friends : The boys and girls of Brownville 
who planned this reception for you have asked me to 
welcome you to our town. May the friendships that 
have been made this afternoon be lasting, and the 
memory of this occasion grow brighter and brighter 
with each succeeding year. It was the sweet spirit of 
our Saviour that inspired us to open our hearts and 
homes to you. Whatever may be the pleasure or 
benefit you may derive from your visit, give all the 
glory to him. Our fields and forests are yours. For 
you our flowers blossom; our berries ripen ; our wild 
birds sing. Seek for God in every thing : each flower 
will speak his love; each bird will sing his praise. 
Crowd all the pleasure you can into the coming 
week. The good Lord wants you boys and girls to 
have all the sport you can, provided you do nothing 
in your play which might displease him. So, run and 
jump and laugh and shout for the whole ten days, 
and we older ones will share your good times. The 
Lady’s-Delights and the Knights (of course you all 
know by this time who they are) will give their whole 
attention to you during your stay. They will call at 


The Reception. 


115 


the places where you are stopping, will supply you 
with reading-matter, and will read to you if you de- 
sire it. Should any slight difficulties arise, go at once 
to Mrs. King or to Miss Mary Lovell, who will make 
every thing satisfactory. Now, once more, ‘ in His 
name, and for the love of Christ,’ I welcome you to 
Brownville.” 

Mr. King was heartily cheered. The poor guests 
were much affected to think they should thus be wel- 
comed by the pastor. 

All now joined in singing the old familiar hymn, 
‘‘ Blest be the tie that binds.” Truly both classes felt 
as one. The countrj^-folks had lost none of their self- 
respect by thus mingling with the unfortunate. The 
city guests secretly determined to make more of life 
in the future. 

At eight o’clock the reception was over. 


116 


Gems Without Polish. 


CHAPTER Yin. 

m MAY’S ROOM. 

“ But look I The morn, in russet mantle clad, 

Walks o’er the dew of yon high eastern hill.” 

May and Daisy were awake very early the next 
morning. 

How refreshed was the young city girl after her 
sweet, undisturbed sleep on so comfortable a bed ! Ho 
headache. Ho hard day’s work before her. Ho fret- 
ful children to care for. 

How quiet ! Ho sound but the songs of the birds 
in the apple-trees near the open window. How cool ! 
The morning breeze was fanning her face. 

A pretty chamber, surely, and May’s own — dainty 
furniture, bright carpet, neat curtains, pleasing pict- 
ures, numerous bric-a-brac, and fragrant flowers. 

After the girls were dressed they examined every 
thing in the room : the keepsakes, the books, the con- 
tents of the bureau-drawers, the dresses in the clothes- 
press. 

How neatly every thing was kept ! Daisy was 
ashamed that she bad left her clothes in the middle 
of the floor on the previous night. She wondered if 
May always combed her hair before breakfast every 
morning, as she did on this. 

The girls seated themselves b_y the window. 

‘‘ I am glad that the birds would not let us sleep 
any longer,” began Daisy. 

So am I,” answered May. “ They always sing 


In May’s Room. 


117 


sweetest in tlie morning, as if they were praising God 
before any one is round. A pair of robins built in 
this apple-tree last spring. They would peck at the 
window every morning until I opened it, when they 
would fly in for the crumbs I had scattered on the 
floor for them. You should have seen the mother- 
bird teach the little ones to fly ; she would go to a 
branch not far from the nest and call them to her. 
If they did not dare to fly, she would scold for a while, 
then fly back and try to push them from the nest. But 
look!’’ 

The sun appeared. Earth and sky were touched, 
as if by magic, with his splendor. Every hill was 
crowned with gold : every fleld was bathed with light. 
The clouds that had gathered in the east began to scat- 
ter. They resembled so many white-sailed vessels 
starting out on various voyages. 

Daisy gazed in silence and admiration at her first 
sunrise. 

“How beautiful!” she exclaimed, after* awhile. 
“ The sun seems to be chasing the clouds. Some of 
them look like snow-flakes, they are so small and so 
close together ; others make me think of faces ; but 
those dark clouds seem out of place, so near to the 
white ones. I suppose I appear the same way by the 
side of your country girls.” 

“ You dear girl ! Of course you don’t,” answered 
May, drawing nearer to her friend. “ Aren’t the 
dark clouds and the white ones really the same ? ” 

“ O, May, you are so good — why, you’re an angel, 
a perfect angel,” and Daisy took a long look at the 
sweet young face before her. 

“Ho, no, dear! But I hope to be sometime. 


118 


Gems Without Pouish, 


Mamma says God does not need angels on earth, but 
people. Don’t those dark clouds look like angels ! 
One might imagine they had come from heaven to 
enjoy this beautiful morning, and are singing, ‘ And 
on earth peace, good-will toward men.’ O, Daisy, 
that peace always seems so much more precious to me 
at times like this ! ” 

The practical city girl did not know what to 
make of this new friend or her remarks. She said 
nothing. 

May continued: “I always think that Jesus must 
have been home-sick on such mornings as this ; they 
must have reminded him of the beautiful land he 
had left. You see, it is morning all the time in 
heaven.” 

O, May, I don’t wonder you are good, since you 
live in such a beautiful place. I wish I loved Jesus 
as you do.” 

“ There is only one way to love him,” answered 
May, hiniily, yet gently, “and that is his way — ‘ If ye 
love me, keep my commandments.’ ” 

“ I hope I can grow a little better by being with 
you.” 

Daisy was almost afraid of her own voice. 

“We can only be better by being with Jesus. He 
will come and stay with you whenever you ask him.” 

“ O, May, I know so little about Jesus. I never 
went to Sunday-school — not once in my life. I always 
work harder on Sundays than on any other day and — 
and father drinks worse than ever then. Come, tell 
me all about Jesus.” 

Daisy could have asked no greater favor of her 
friend. 


In May’s Koom. 


119 


Why, darling, it would take forever to tell you all 
about him, but I can tell you a little every day for a 
week, if you wish. I try to talk with every body 
about Jesus. If they love him, we talk together of 
our best Friend, and if they don’t love him, they are 
always glad to have me speak of him. But you want 
to have Jesus live right in the family with you, to 
know how very good he is. O how he helps me in 
all my little trials ! ” 

‘‘What! Do you ever have any trials?” asked 
Daisy, in a surprised tone. 

“ Sometimes. Bee frets me, but she doesn’t do so 
on purpose, and it is so liard to see other people doing 
wrong; then I have lots of other little troubles 
that I have to keep running to Jesus with. I never 
mention them to any body else, but I feel that he 
wants me to tell you about them.” 

“ I am glad that you have. O, I mean that my life 
doesn’t seem so hard now. I should think Bee would 
fret you. I don’t want to say any thing against jmur 
sister; but what a bunch of mischief she is!” 

“Yet she has the warmest little heart. I think 
she is as good in God’s sight as these sweet-tempered 
children. She is not to blame for her disposition, 
but of course God will take her temper all away 
when she will let him. Mamma once had a temper 
just like Bee’s — so she says — and she went to Jesus 
with it, and he gave her grace to overcome her fault, 
so that now it never troubles her.” 

“ What, your gentle mother ! But how can you 
be so patient with Bee ? ” 

“ May be God gave her to me for a sister just to try 
my patience. It is easier for me to put up with her 


120 


Gems Without Polish. 


temper tliaa for her to get angry and then feel so 
badly because she has offended me. She is so loving 
after slie has had one of these angry spells. I’m 
speaking of Bee’s temper. Aunt Mary once said, 
‘ The bumble bee that stings gives us honey, while 
the butterfly that has no sting gives us nothing ! ’ ” 

‘‘ May be you would not be so patient if you had 
three cross, sickly babies to fret you ; yet how I miss 
the little things this morning ! Two of them always 
sleep with me. I have taken the whole care of them 
ever since they were a few weeks old. I get so tired. 
Then father is such a trial. I never complain much, 
for mother — poor soul — has all she can bear; and 
there’s nobody else to go to ; but it seems so nice to 
talk with you ; I want to tell you every thing.” 

“I am glad you are willing to trust me; for 
haven’t we agreed to be sisters for a week? We 
must not keep any secrets from each other — or from 
Jesus, either, shall w^e?” 

“ I hope not. But you talk of him just as if he was 
like other people.” 

It seemed as if Daisy had always known the beau- 
tiful girl beside her. 

‘‘ Why shouldn’t I ? All my work is his work, and 
I pray every morning for him to keep me busy 
through the day. When I am talking about Jesus I 
wont be doing any thing wrong. Then our children’s 
meetings help me so much.” 

“ What are those ? ” 

‘‘Little meetings we children and young people 
have every Sunday afternoon with Aunt Mary and 
Jesus. One lady said that the children don’t need to 
be Christians because they have their mothers to watch 


In May’s Koom. 


121 


them ; but they can’t go to school or to play with 
them as Jesus can, and that is where they need to be 
watched the most. You must go to one of our meet- 
ings.” 

‘‘ I sliall want to ; but what do you do to be a 
Christian ? ” 

“ First get just right with God, then always ask 
him and your mother about every thing, and do just 
as they want you to.” 

It must be very pleasant to be a Christian,” said 
Daisy. 

The little girl looked thoughtful. 

“ It is, for it makes you so happy. An old lady 
once told me that religion was too gloomy for us 
young people. But it is not. Why, nearly every 
body who speaks in our evening prayer-meeting be- 
gins by saying, ‘I am so glad’ about this or that. 
Mamma asked me to be a Christian a few years ago 
and I w\as only too glad to be one. It is so nice to 
have your motlier and Jesus to bring you to God. I 
think I’ll read my chapter now. I am always anxious 
to see what promises my heavenly Father has for me 
each morning. Mr. King says there are eighty-two 
promises for every day in the year. He calls the 
Bible God’s promise book.” 

May took her little Bible from the stand and 
opened to the fourteenth chapter of John. 

“I think I will read one of Jesus’s chapters; the 
beautiful words he spoke before his disciples. If 
you have brought your Bible you might read the 
same chapter out of that.” 

Daisy blushed and nervously fingered the curtain 
tassel. 


122 


Gems Without Polish. 


“ Blit — but I — I haven’t any Bible. I never even 
read a single chapter in one.” 

May tried hard to conceal her surprise. She an- 
swered as calmly as she could, *‘I asked that question 
because I always carry my Bible wherever I go. 
You can use mine while you are here, but I never 
offered to lend it to any body else, it is so pre- 
cious.” 

Thank you,” answered Daisy gratefully as she 
glanced at the little book in May’s lap. ‘‘ What are 
those marks in your Bible for ? ” 

“ I place a black pencil mark after every promise. 
Then as soon as I have asked God for what he has 
promised me and he gives it, I put a red pencil-mark 
after that promise. See what lots of red marks there 
are.” 

May turned the leaves of the little volume from 
beginning to end. 

“ Does God always keep his promise? ” 

“ Wlijq Daisy Dow ! ” 

May was astounded ; so was Daisy. May had al- 
ways been so gentle in answering the absurd questions 
this city girl liad asked concerning rural scenes, had 
shown no surprise even when her word was doubted 
in regard to the same — but now — 

“ Don’t feel badly,” said May. I really did not 
mean to speak so rudely. I forgot that you do not 
know so much of God as the rest of us. Yes, he 
always keeps his promises; yet sometimes I must 
wait a while for him to answer my pra3^ers. Suppose 
we count all tlie promises in this chapter. Hear 
tliese : ‘ I go to prepare a place for you. And if I 
go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, 


In May’s Room. 123 

and receive jon unto myself ; that where lam, there 
ye may be also.’ ” 

“ What does that mean ? ” 

‘‘ Jesus always means just what he says ; if he had 
meant for us to ask questions he would have put the 
answers between the lines. He went to heaven to 
prepare a place for Christians among the many man- 
sions ; just as papa went to the sea-shore last summer 
to get a cottage ready, then he came for us because he 
wanted us where he was.” 

Several verses were read, tlien May exclaimed 
eagerly, 

‘^Just listen to tliis precious promise: ‘Yerily, 
verily, I say unto you, he that believetli on me, the 
works that I do shall he do also ; and greater works 
than these shall he do ; because I go unto my Father.’ 
O Daisy, that makes me tliink of the time I was at 
Cousin Mamie’s. She wanted me to stay with her 
mother while she was at boarding-school. She said I 
could do any thing around her home that she usually 
did, and more too. I rode her pony, I played on her 
piano, I read to auntie, I did her part of the house- 
work ; yes, I did more than she ever did, T was so 
anxious to till her place. So, it seems that the Chris- 
tians who are trying to fill Jesus’s place in the world 
would not do so much if Jesus were here himself. 
What an honor to do his work ! 

“ But here is such a generous promise given twice 
right off : * And whatsoever ye shall ask in my name, 
that will I do, that the Father may be glorified in the 
Son. If ye shall ask any thing in my name, I will 
do it.’ Mamma is often so busy she can’t stop to do 
certain little things we ask of her, but Jesus has 


124 : 


Gems Without Polish. 


time enough to do every thing we ask of him, and 
the best part is he lets us help.” 

‘‘ What have you ever asked him to do for you ? ” 
asked Daisy, who was becoming deeply interested in 
the chapter. 

“ A great many things. I suppose he is as pleased 
to have us ask any thing of him as Mrs. King is to 
have us ask her for flowers. She says she would 
never know that her Sunday-school scholars cared for 
her unless they felt free to ask favors of her. 

“ Here is my favorite verse : ‘ And I will pray the 
Father, and he shall give you another Comforter, that 
he may abide with you forever.’ ” 

“ Who is that Comforter?” 

“ God’s Holy Spirit ; the part of God that lives in 
our hearts. Mr. King says that God always gives us 
something in return for every thing he takes away. 
This Comforter takes Jesus’s place. Kotice tlmt Je- 
sus had to pray for God to send the Holy Ghost ; so 
we must ask for every thing we want God to give us. 
1 have been asking this Comforter to guide me in 
reading my Bible, all my life, and I always find new 
beauties in it every day.” 

Truly, the Spirit of the Lord was inspiring the 
youthful Christian as she explained verse after verse 
of this wonderful chapter. 

“ ‘ Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto 
you,’ ” read May. “ Jesus brought peace when he 
came and left it when he returned to God. ‘ My 
peace,’ he says. Just think what his peace must have 
been — for he never did a single sin. And this same 
peace he gives us, for his Father forgives and forgets 
all of our sins for his sake. Jesus has given me this 


In May’s Room. 


125 


peace. I do not know what it is to fear. I am 
‘safe in the arms of Jesus,’ and there is room for 
you there too.” 

Daisy made no reply. For the first time she felt 
her need of that peace which passeth all under- 
standing. 

May finished the chapter, and the two learned the 
verse that told about the peace ; the first passage of 
Scripture that Daisy had ever committed to mem- 
ory. 

Every thing seemed so strange to her. She had 
gotten her first knowledge of the inner life of a Chris- 
tian. It was not the beautiful surroundings but the 
Saviour’s infiuence that made May so sweet and lov- 
able. This same Jesus had promised to love her, to 
comfort her, to abide with her, to give her his Spirit, 
his peace, his work, his heavenly home. Should she 
take him at his word 'i 

“ Let us say our prayers now,” said May, very 
softly. 

“ But I — I don’t — don’t know how to pray. I — ^I 
never prayed.” 

Daisy was much abashed. May was more aston- 
ished than ever, l^ever before had she heard such a 
confession. She took Daisy’s hand in hers and said : 

“ I am so sorry, for your sake and for Jesus’ sake. 
How lonesome yon must be to live without him ! 
But sha’n’t I introduce you to Jesus? Would you 
like to have me teach you how to pray ? ” 

“Yes; but please tell me a little something about 
praying first. I — I never heard any one pray before 
yesterday, only at school. I’ve forgotten the prayer 
I used to say there. I’ve not been for so long.” 


126 


Gems Without Polish. 


“ Why, darling, praying is just talking with God. 
Just think, we can talk with the same God that an- 
gels talk with ! I always enjoy niy morning prayer 
the best. To pray then seems like saying good-morn- 
ing to Jesns, and I have nothing to ask God’s for- 
giveness for, as I often have at night. Yet our even- 
ing prayers are very pleasant. Every night mother 
prays with us children, and we tell her nearly every 
thing we have done through the day. It seems the 
next thing to talking face to face with Jesus, to talk 
with mother. Last light we omitted this talk for the 
first time this year. Let us kneel now.” 

^ “ Why — why do you kneel ? ” 

“ Because I feel closer to God by so doing. It 
seems like talking with some one in the same room 
when you kneel, and when you don’t it is like talking 
with some one in another room.” 

The girls kneeled by the open window. 

May offered a short, simple prayer. She thanked 
her heavenly Father for his love and presence, asked 
his blessing on lier many friends — upon Daisy in par- 
ticular — prayed for him to keep her very busy 
through the day doing his work, and to guide her in 
all she should do. 

, When she had finished she told Daisy to pray. 

“ Blit I don’t dare to pray,” answered Daisy in a 
choked voice ; “ I’ve been so wicked.” 

‘‘Yet jmu are never afraid to talk with your 
mother — are you ? — no matter what you have done. 
And God loves you more than she does. He is your 
heavenly Father. But I will teach you the Lord’s 
Prayer ; then it will be easier for you to pray your 
own prayers.” 


In May’s Eoom. 127 

After Daisy had learned to repeat the all snflicient 
prayer the girls rose from their knees. 

I am so glad yon mentioned me in your prayer,” 
said Daisy. ‘‘ Nobody ever prayed for me before.” 

“Ah, yes; Jesus has prayed for yon. He is sit- 
ting on tlie right hand of God and praying for the 
world ‘ with groanings that cannot be uttered.’ ” 

Here Bess rushed into the room, her clothes under 
her arms, her shoes in her hands. 

“Wont som’body p’ease to dwess me?” 

“ Of course sister will dress her darling,” answered 
May, kissing the little face that looked up through 
its cloud of curls. 

Bess’s night-gown soon gave place to a pretty blue 
dress. Then her shoes and stockings must be put on. 

“ ’Oo’ll know when my boot is on, when ’oo see my 
toe sticking out of the hole in the boot,” she ex- 
plained. 

“ Bess seems so different from our babies,” observed 
Daisy. “ I have three to dress every morning. But 
sometimes I don’t have to undress them at night ; 
they have kicked their clothes about all off by tliat 
time, no matter how tight I have pinned them on.” 

“Mamma dives me ’ots of pin-money,” said Bess. 
“ I don’t see wliy she wants me to spend it for pins ; 
I’d wather have tandy. O, my eyes is s’eepy, tlie 
sandman is playing bo-peep with ’em. I tried to 
wake Bee up, to ask her if I was awake or asleep, but 
her eyes was all asleep ; she had a croup last niglit.” 

“ Our babies are all croupy,” said Daisy. “ I have 
to be up with them all night, sometimes, for mother 
only takes three or four hours’ sleep any night, and I 
would not have her lose that little rest.” 


128 


Gems Without Polish. 


“ P’ease to keep ’till, I wants to ’peak,” said Bess. 

May ’ovell, ’oo’s doing to take tare o’ me to-day, and 
if I dets into mischief, ’oo’ll be to blame ; way I is to 
blame when my Prudy Parlin dollie dets into the sun 
and melts her face all up. But I tome in here to say 
my pwares,” 

Halloo!” 

Bee stood at the door, her hair in crimp-papers. 

“ Wliy, Bee, what made you do your hair up?” 
asked Daisy. 

‘‘’Cause I wanted crimps, and ‘truly curls’ ain’t 
crimps. What you been doing?” 

“We have been reading the Bible, and May has 
been teaching me how to pray — praying for me, 
too.” 

“ Why, Daisy Dow ! Didn’t you ever pray before? 
I guess the Lord thinks you are not very polite or 
sociable, if you never spoke to him when he is ’round 
all tlie time. I would not have any one do all my 
praying for me — no, sir — any more than I’d let them 
learn my lessons for me.” 

The tears came to Daisy’s eyes. 

“ There, Beatrice, you must be more careful,” said 
May, rather sharply ; then, in a gentler tone to Daisy : 
“ Don’t feel so badly, dear. I am glad you came here, 
so I can pray for you. Jesus wants us to pray for each 
other ; he even points out the very ones for whom we 
should pray. When he lived in the world he would 
only pray for those to whom his Father sent him.” 

“ ’Ess, Bee ’ovell,” began Bess, “ ’oo needn’t say any 
thing ; ’oo asks May to say ’oor pwares for ’oo, and 
let ’oo just say the amen ; and she has to pwa}^ the 
mad all out of ’oo before ’oo tan say ’oor pwares.” 


In May’s Koom. 


129 


Bee blushed. Bess had only told the truth. 

‘‘I guess I’ll say all ruy prayers up for a week,” 
said Bee ; then I will liave all the time for play.” 

“ Would you like to eat enough for breakfast to last 
you for a week ? ” asked May. 

No, siree, sir ! ” 

But we need prayer as much as food, every day.” 

‘‘Well, Daisy never prayed for a single day. Mr. 
King told our mission-band that every body prays ex- 
cept people in Cliristian lands who aren’t Christians. 
The lowest heathen pray to stone and wood ; but they 
pray just the same. What chapter have you been 
reading ? ” 

“ The fourteenth chapter of John,” answered May. 
“That is my rest chapter; I always read it when I 
am tired.” 

“I have read five leaves beyond John tlie Baptist,” 
said Bee,” and I know the twenty-third chapter of 
Psalms by heart. I have an Old Testament and a 
New Testament all together ; but the Old Testament 
isn’t old at all. There isn’t a page torn.” 

“Do you like to read your Bible?” asked Daisy. 

“Yes, I do. I’m good. I have got a whole Bible- 
ful of religion. But folks think May is better than I. 
She knows more Bible verses than there are in the 
Bible. She never told a lie, ’cause she never had any 
to tell. I should think school might let out, her birth- 
day, the way it does on Washington’s; don’t see why 
the Lord didn’t keep her in heaven — that is where she 
belongs. But I love May. I am glad he happened to 
put her and me in the same world. But when I die 
I s’pose the good part of me will go to heaven and 
the bad part of me will go to the other place ; but 

9 


130 


Gems Without Polish. 


papa says I’ll only go to one place, and that will be 
where I belong.” 

“ Are you one of the little girls that May tells me 
are trying to be Christians ? ” asked Daisy. 

“ No ; May has ’ligion enough for her and me too. 
But I know ’ligion is easier to get than your Sunday- 
school lesson. Of course 1 know what it is to be con- 
verted ; it is to dis\oYQ yourself and to let the Lord 
take all the slap out of your hand. But every body 
expects me to be in mischief, and if I wasn’t they 
would be disappointed. May wont get mad with me, 
so I have to get mad with myself.” 

“ But God made you to make a good girl out of 
you,” said May, ‘‘ and he will be disappointed if you 
are not good.” 

“ Why didn’t God make me good in the first place, 
so he wouldn’t have to make me over?” 

“ He did make you good, but you soon learned to 
slap and speak naughty ; then he had to wash the stains 
all off your heart, wdien you asked him to. Mamma 
makes our clothes nicely, but she has to make them 
over sometimes after they are all torn, or faded, or 
soiled ; then she has to wash them very often, also. 
Yes, God has to make us over. The Bible says, ‘Ye 
must be born again.’ ” 

“ Yes; and Aunt Mary read about a little boy that 
cried because he was afraid he would be born a girl 
the second time. My ! I’d like to be born a boy the 
next time. Wonder if I’ll have a temper when I am 
born again.” 

“Not if you ask God to help you keep it in.” 

“But Dr. Murray didn’t w^ant me to keep the 
measles in, and the temper is worse than the measles. 


In May’s Koom. 131 

Why can’t I kick it out ? I always get over a row 
by kicking.” 

“ Did the doctor tell you to kick and kick to be 
cured of the measles ? ” 

“ hTo. He gave me some sugar pills, and promised 
to carry me up to his house if 1 would take them and 
get well.” 

“So God gives you his love to cure you of your 
temper. He promises to carry you to his beautiful 
home in heaven if you will take his remedy and get 
well.” 

“ Yes, that’s so,” answered Bess, positively. “ But 
doesn’t my temper spread, though ? It will begin in 
my thumb when I just prick it, and in the second of 
a second it will be in my feet, making them kick, 
then in my face, a scowling me. I might as well keep 
mad all the time as to keep getting mad and then 
getting good.” 

“ I always get mad all over, tlie way Bee does,” 
said Daisy. “ But you have helped me so much this 
morning. May.” 

“And you have helped me too.” 

“ I helped you ! How ? I never supposed I ever 
helped any body.” 

“ In a great many ways. I have learned more 
than one lesson from you. But come, Bess, say your 
prayer now — Bee too.” 

The little ones kneeled at the bedside. 

Here is Bess’s prayer. 

“ Dear Dod, p’ease excuse me for steppin’ on that 
lady-bug yesterday. I fordot to tell ’oo ’bout it last 
night, I was so sleepy. I fordot to say ‘Now I lay’ 
last night, and said, ‘ Now I awake and see the light,’ 


132 


Gems Without Polish. 


but ’oo know what I meant ; doesn’t ’oo ? I s’pose I 
will be a naughty dirl to-day, ’tause I am naughty 
every day, but don’t let me be very much wrong. 
Dod b’ess papa and mamma, and May and Daisy, and 
all the lammies and birdies, and Dod b’ess Bess — 
Dood-bye.” 

Here is Bee’s prayer. 

‘‘Dear God and Jesus, please forgive Johnnie for 
being a naughty boy. Bess is a naughtier girl than I 
am (Echo from Bess, ‘ 1 am not ’). I don’t like to talk 
about what Pve done wrong ’cause Daisy is here. 
Make me behave myself to-day. Don’t let that old 
Satan fuss me up. Don’t let the house burn up. 
Don’t let the horse run away. Please hurry to pear 
time. Amen. 

“ P. S. — Bless papa and mamma and May and Daisy 
and Chester — bless him the most — but don’t bless 
Baby Bess when she cries and wakes me up.” Then 
in a gruff voice, as if imitating a man’s. Bee answered 
herself, “ No, I wont.” 

“ You should not pray such a prayer about Bess,” 
said May, as the children arose from their kness. 

“ But didn’t you hear the Lord answer it ? ” 

“ O, Bee, that was very, very wrong, for you to 
try to answer your prayer in that way. And why 
did you ask God to forgive Johnnie and say nothing 
about yourself ? ” 

“ I wanted to be generous in my prayers. I didn’t 
want to forget him.” 

“ But God wont hear our prayers for others until 
we ask him to forgive our own sins.” 

“ Well, it would have taken too long to mention 
thein, and ’tisn’t polite to talk so much.” 


In May’s Room. 


133 


The Bible tells us to pray without ceasing. 
Well, Bess, does the Lord always answer your 
prayers ? ” 

“ He does when I say please. But I is s’eepy. 
Bee snored so last night it kept me awake. Snoring 
is dreaming out loud. I had the — the rheumatism 
in my tooth, too. I’s had the rheumastism ever since 
papa whipped me, the corns too.” 


134 


Gems Without Polish. 


CHAPTER IX. 

ROUND THE FARM. 

The breakfast bell. Surely a welcome sound ! 

Each repeated his morning text at the table. Bee’s 
turn came last. Anxious to get to eating, she said in 
her brisk way, “ ‘ Jesus wept.’ Pass the hash.” Her 
haste only brought a sharp reproof from her mother. 

Chester and Daisy seemed much at home. How 
they enjoyed the oat-meal, the sweet creamy milk, 
the johnny cake,” and the rolls. 

After breakfast came family prayers, a feature al- 
together new to the young guests. Each of the 
family had his Bible and took part in the reading. 
A familiar song was sung. Mr. Lovell offered a short, 
earnest prayer, and all repeated the Lord’s Prayer in 
concert, Chester and Daisy included. 

Johnnie drove the cows to pasture an hour later 
than usual, that his company might go with him. 

All followed Mr. Lovell to the barn-yard where he 
milked the five cows. Chester tried his hand at 
milking. He proposed that the cow's legs be tied 
so that she would not kick the pail over. He feared 
that he might hurt her. He concluded that he was 
not “ strong enough to milk a cow.” 

The cows were then driven down the road to the 
pasture. Bess hugged the bossie as if it were her 
rag baby. Johnnie led “Blackie” by her horns. May 
fed “ Silver Star ” with grass all the way. Bee rode 


Kound the Farm. 


135 


on “ Molly’s ” back. Daisy asked which cow gave 
tlie milk and which the cream. Chester thought the 
cows must be able to see to a great distance witli 
their ^‘fat eyes.” He chased them down the road, 
waving a switch and shouting “ get dap, get dap.” 

“ Molly is my cow,” said Johnnie. “ She wont 
hook you.” 

Hook me ! ” exclaimed Chester. “What do you 
suppose she wants to steal me for ? ” 

“ I mean she wont hook you with her horns. Do 
you have cows in Boston ? ” 

“ Ho ; we have milkmen instead of cows, and 
they’re not half as much trouble. Who does that 
red-headed cow belong to ? ” 

“ That is Aunt Mary’s Jersey.” 

“ Do they make jei'sey cloth from her hair ? ” asked 
Daisy. 

“ Of course not.” 

“ But you said they made woolen cloth from wool, 
that is, sheep’s hair, and why shouldn’t they make 
jersey cloth from a jersey’s hair ? ” 

The pasture was now reached, and the cows began 
their grazing. 

Tlie young people continued their walk to the bars 
leading into the next pasture. May leaned over 
them, calling “ bah ! bah ! bah ! ” 

“ Bah ! bah 1 bah ! came the response from a num- 
ber of sheep and lambs that ran at once to the bars, 
eager for the salt which May held out. 

“ How funny they should know what you said and 
come right to the bars ! ” exclaimed Chester, to the 
great amusement of the others. 

May opened the bars and called, “ Blonde, Blonde,” 


136 


Gems Without Polish. 


one of the lambs immediately ran through and rubbed 
his head against her hand, while she told how he 
would eat apples from her pocket, and know her from 
every body else ; and how Aunt Mary, hearing a rap 
at the door one time, opened it, supposing she had 
a caller — but only found Blonde ; and how the chil- 
dren had taught this little cosset to play tag with 
them. 

‘‘ Those coarse-wooled sheep are Soutlidowns,” she 
said. “Father keeps them for mutton ; but I can’t 
bear to eat any meat that comes from our sheep.” 

“ These fine-wooled sheep are merinos,” said John- 
nie, with all the pride of a farmer who is showing 
visitors round his farm. “ Pretty good breed. We 
never wash their wool, it’s so soapy. Wool keeps bet- 
ter to let the oily stuff stay in it. We always keep 
sheep. They eat what the cattle wont, and so clear 
our pastures of weeds and low bushes that we don’t 
want to spread.” 

“We came near losing a lamb one cold night last 
fall,” said May. “ But papa found him on a high 
hill. Sheep like to be on high ground, and the 
lambs followed the leader up this hill.” 

“ Fred Barney got mad with Mr. Chase, one time,” 
began Johnnie, “ and he made a lot of balls oiit of 
burdock burrs and threw them at Chase’s flock of 
sheep. Wasn’t their wool stuck up, though ! ” 

“ Hattie Chase and I picked all the burrs out of 
their wool,” said May. “One of the lambs belonged 
to her ; she used to have it harnessed up to a little 
cart and take long rides.” 

“ What a fine team ! ” exclaimed Chester. “ But 
what are those sheep chewing ? Gum ? ” 


Round the Farm. 


137 


“ They are chewing their ends,” answered May. 
‘‘ See how that sheep lying under the tree seems to 
enjoy hers. That is Blonde’s mother. He can tell 
her voice from that of any other sheep of the flock, 
and will always run at her call, no matter how much 
noise the other sheep are making. She was a cosset, 
also.” 

What is a cosset lamb ? ” asked Daisy. 

‘‘ One that you take all the care of ; feeding it on 
milk as you would a kitten. A cosset’s mother gen- 
erally dies or disowns it. We kept Blonde and his 
mother in the yard until last month.” 

‘‘Those are my young steers,” said Johnnie, point- 
ing toward a tall elm. “ We call them Cain and 
Abel, but they ought to change names. Abel is the 
balky one and does all the kicking. That is our horse 
near them. You will have to learn to ride horse- 
back, Chester; it is lots of fun.” 

“ All right. But if I had so many horses that I 
had to turn some of them out to pasture I would go 
into the horse-car business. What is your trade, 
Lovell ? ” 

“My trade!” laughed Johnnie. “Why, I have 
never thought any thing about that.” 

“What, eleven years old, and never thought of 
your trade ! When do you ’spose you will get a start 
in life, if you don’t begin soon ? ” 

“ Why, my father is going to take care of me till 
I’m old enough to have a trade, but I wont be a 
farmer. No^ sir ! ” 

“ I think I shall go into farming sometime,” re- 
turned Chester with a serious air. “ If my family 
weren’t so large I would move ’em out here pretty 


138 


Gems Without Polish. 


quick. I’d hire one of them empty houses we passed 
yesterday, and cut it up into small rents, and make 
my fortin. You could get eight, yes, you could get 
ten, rents out of a house like yours.” 

‘‘ But where would you find people for your rents ? ” 

“ I’d ’vite my chums to see me, then they would 
be so carried away with the country they’d want to 
move here too. There is Billy Burns, who supports 
his grandmother by selling the ’lasses candy she 
makes. He would come. But there wouldn’t be 
much trade for the papermen or bootblacks here ; 
still, they could turn farmers.” 

Johnnie thought Cheater was quite a hero, to talk 
in this business-like way, but considered it poor taste 
for him to prefer the country to the city. 

“ I guess you would get all the farming you wanted 
by the time you had been at it as many years as I 
have. It is fun to see folks break in colts and to go 
to paring-bees ; but when you have to dig potatoes in 
the hot sun, and do all the chores, it’s another thing.” 

“ Guess ’tisn’t worse than being kicked round in 
the city,” answered Chester. “ I have shifted for my- 
self all my life ; been a bootblack, sold pencils round 
the street, and been an advertisement boy — carried 
pasteboard advertisements over my shoulders, you see. 
But I have done best in the paper business ; I have 
twelve steady customers in one block.” 

“ What is a block ? ” 

A block is a house as big as all the houses of 
Brownville put together. It is all cut up into stores 
or houses.” 

‘‘ My ! I would stay in the city if I did business in 
such big places as that ! ” exclaimed Johnnie, enthusi- 


Eound the Farm. 


139 


astically. “There is no chance for 3 ’'ou to be any 
thing in the country but a farmer, or cobler, or butch- 
er, or milkman — not half paid for your work, either, 
father says. O the wood you have to split and the 
hens to feed ! ” 

“ But you can go fishing and swimming and berry- 
ing after your work is done ; and there is nothing to 
do in the city, after your papers are sold, except to go 
into the stores and hear the men tell stories.” 

“Well, if you are bound to be a farmer, I will give 
you my advice and ’sperience in the matter. What 
w’ould you like to pay for a farm ? ” 

“ Couldn’t tell. I have about a dollar on hand.” 

“ May be you had better hire a farm first. N^ow, 
remember, you don’t want to be a slack farmer ; don’t 
have your fences a-tumbling down, or your buildings 
leaky, or your tools left out-doors to rust; keep your 
barns and hen-pens clean, and your gardens well 
weeded. Don’t overfeed your live stock ; give them 
the best of food, as much as they need, but no 
more ! ” 

“My! I would like to be overfed once,” said 
Chester. “ How hungry this air makes a fellow 1 ” 

The party now returned home, stopping on thd way 
to gather berries and wild fiowers. 

“ Let’s run and see who will get home first,” pro- 
posed Bee. “ Come, Daisy.” 

“ O, 1 never run ; why, there is not much chance 
for running in the city, and I always stayed home and 
helped mother when the other children were out 
playing.” 

“ Don’t know how to run ? Ila-ha-ha ! ” 

“There, Bee Lovell,” began Johnnie, with a stern 


140 


Gems Without Polish. 


look at his little sister ; “ any one wouldn’t think your 
grandfather was a minister, to see how saucy you are. 
And doesn’t your Aunt Mary belong to the Church 
and the Grange Hall and the missionary cause and the 
Woman’s Christian Temperance Union? and hasn’t 
she so many ribbons she don’t have to buy any neck- 
ties ? ” 

“Well, I will give Daisy a running lesson; bare- 
footed, too.” 

The lesson was given. All but May and Daisy 
took off their shoes and stockings as they ran down 
the sandy road. 

Sadie Wool ridge and Mollie Pitkin soon joined the 
group. 

Many things were found to interest the young 
guests — lichens, birds’-nests, snail shells, and a sheep’s 
skull, which excited a feeling of horror in the little 
girls, especially when Chester mounted it on a stick 
and chased them. In reply to May’s rebuke, he said 
he was just giving his sister a lesson in running. 

Mr. Lovell’s vegetable-garden vras soon reached. 
Mollie could not be persuaded that potatoes grew in 
the earth until Johnnie pulled up a plant and showed 
her the little potatoes at the roots. Peas and beans, 
beets and onions, turnips and cabbages, squashes and 
pumpkins — all had an especial charm to the city chil- 
dren, who had never before set foot in such a place. 

The girls gathered button-hole bouquets of the blos- 
soms of the peas and beans. The boys made whistles 
from the stems of the squash leaves. 

Aunt Mary’s flower-garden was next visited. Daisy 
picked her first bouquet of cultivated flowers. Mol- 
lie just flitted from one blossom to another, admired 


Bound the Farm. 


Ml 


them all, and gathered none. Bess asked if she could 
not pick the “ old maid flowers,” meaning those that 
were withered. 

“ There, Bess, if you don’t stop taking all of auntie’s 
pinks I will call the boo-ga-boo and ask him to eat you 
up,” said Bee, sharply, as she swung to and fro on 
the gate. 

‘‘ O ! O ! O ! I will stop ! ” cried Bess, running up 
to May ; “ but ’oo mustn’t ’fuse me, I’s norsing but 
a baby.” 

What is a boo-ga-boo ? ” asked Mollie. 

‘‘ I — I — I don’t know ; papa wouldn’t ’et me do to 
the circus.” 

As soon as Bess was quieted all went to the hen- 
yard. 

“ What is that hen making such a time over ? ” . 
asked Chester. 

She has just laid an egg,” answered May. 

“Well, I should think she would be pleased, and 
not make such a fuss about it. 

“Mamma don’t ’low me to boast when I do any 
thing, but hens do,” said Bee. “ That is a Plymouth 
Kock.” 

“ O, you have used slang again,” cried Chester. 
“It’s no worse to call a fellow a brick than a hen 
a rock ; so now ! But do those speckled hens lay 
speckled eggs ? ” 

“ Of course not ; but that hen stole her nest once. 
She brought off ten chickens when we had three 
other sitting hens.” 

“1 should think the hen had as much right to 
have her nest anywhere as the birds do,” observed 
Mollie. 


142 


Gems Without Polish. 


“ She hasn’t ; Johnnie and I have all the eggs we 
find, and sell them. He buried his in the ground 
one time so I wouldn’t steal them. Papa thinks our 
barn-yard hens lay best.” 

‘‘Aren’t all your hens barn-yard hens?” asked 
Daisy ; “ they all live in the barn-yard.” 

O no,” answered Johnnie ; “ there are Leghorns, 
Wyandottes, Cochins, Brahmas, Hamburgs, and a 
number of other kinds.” 

“ See me hug my old Lill,” cried Bee, taking up 
a beautiful white hen. “ I used to take her in my 
arms and slide down hill with her last winter. She 
laid an egg in Johnnie’s hat one time, when he hap- 
pened to leave it in the yard. When she was a little 
chicken she would eat out of my hand, fiy on my 
shoulder too — didn’t you, Lill ? ” 

“Cut — cut — cut-ca-dor-cut,” answered the hen. 

“ See that fellow you call a rooster strut ’round,” 
exclaimed Chester. “ Isn’t he a dude, tliough ! ” 

“No, he isn’t; he is a Wyandedoot,” replied Bee. 
What is a dude? ” 

“ A man that doesn’t know whether to be a man 
or not — a short of dummy that dresses up to show 
what the style is. He tries to cheat you when he 
buys a paper; but he makes good business for bar- 
bers and bootblacks. He’s a nuisance. My, I would 
never believe those dead hens we see in the market 
were ever running ’round alive in this fiishion ; all 
feathers, too ! ” 

The boxes and barrels were now hunted through 
for eggs. Chester was surprised to find the freshl}^- 
laid eggs so warm. He asked if hens ever laid cold 
eggs. 


Kound the Faem. 


143 


See if you can hear the chicken peep,” cried Bee 
holding to Daisy’s ear an egg she had taken from a 
sitting hen. 

Mrs. Lovell now appeared with a dish of meal, 
which slie passed to Mollie, telling her to feed the 
chickens. 

The little girl began to stir the meal as if she w^as 
making a corn-cake, then she threw two or three 
spoonfuls to the ground, crying very faintly, Chick, 
chick, chick.” 

“ You ought to throw the meal all ’round and hol- 
ler,” cried Bee. 

‘‘ But if I speak too loud, they may be frightened 
and run off.” 

“ Nonsense ; let me show you how.” 

Bee took the dish, flourished the spoon and shrieked, 
“ Chick, chick, chick.” 

‘‘ Peep, peep, peep,” answered a dozen or more lit- 
tle yellow balls, that came rolling from under their 
mother’s wings. How eager they were for the meal 
which Bee was throwing in all directions! 

“O, those dear little baby hens!” exclaimed Mol- 
lie. “ Let me feed them again.” 

This time she did better. 

“ There’s a hen eating stones,” observed Chester. 
‘‘ Is that why you call her a Plymouth Bock ? ” 

O no,” answered May, laughing. “Hens have 
no teeth, so they swallow gravel to help grind the food 
in their gizzards.” 

“ I wish I didn’t have any teeth,’' observed Chester. 
“ I had the toothache all last week. Mother could not 
afford to let me have my old tooth out, so it had to 
ache and ache — but what is a gizzard ? ” 


14i 


Gems Without Polish. 


“A gizzard is something that hens have and people 
don’t have,” answered Bee. People eat a hen’s giz- 
zard after the hen is killed. We killed a hen last 
week because she ate her eggs, and we wanted them 
to eat.” 

I should think that she had as much right to them 
as you,” retorted Chester. 

“ But we buy ground oyster shells to help make the 
egg shells, and we ought to have our pay back. We 
have a pair of bantams. You ought to see them. 
The little hen always puts her head under the roost- 
er’s neck feathers every night when she goes to sleep. 
If you tell her to die, she will lie on her back and 
shut her eyes and keep just as still as if she was 
dead.” 

“ That black hen is one of our missionary hens,” 
said Bee. ‘‘ Our Sunday-school teacher gave every 
one in her class an egg to set for a missionary chicken. 
We sell their eggs and put the money in our mite- 
boxes. I think I shall want the darkey heathens to 
have mine, long’s the hen is black.” 

1 only feed the hens twice a day in summer, ’cause 
they can scratch for themselves then,” said Johnnie. 
“ But they always have three meals a day in winter.” 

‘‘Just see that chicken wdth a feather in its 
mouth,” said Daisy. “Poor little fellow, he can’t 
get it out.” 

“See if he can’t,” answered May. “Look at him 
put his bill to the ground and step on the feather. 
There, it is gone. Bravo ! W e call that chicken ‘ Sun- 
beam,’ he is so yellow.” 

“ Do you name all your hens and chickens ? ” asked 
Daisy. 


Round the Farm. 


145 


Most of tliein. Tlie hen that is picking dirt from 
the chicken’s bill is ‘ Argus ; ’ she is a Plymouth Rock, 
and looks as if she had an eye to every feather. The 
white hen that is sending the chickens away from her 
to learn how to take care of themselves is ‘ Lottie ; ’ she 
is weaning her brood. The large cripple chicken is 
‘ Hurnpty Dumpty.’ Poor thing. Isn’t he one-sided? 
The one near him is blind, and I have to carry him 
into the hennery every night. The little fellow that 
is standing in the dish he is drinking from is ‘ Buff.’ 
Tim rooster that is scolding because he thinks the hens 
will eat the meal away from the chickens is ‘ Dick.’ 
He is very proud of his family. The hen that is teach- 
ing her brood to scratch for worms is ‘ Speck.’ Last 
winter one of our roosters froze his comb, and would 
not go into the cold hen-yard after corn, but stayed 
in the hennery where it was quite warm. So for two 
days Speck carried kernels of corn in her bill and fed 
him.” 

Chester and Mollie now wanted to name some of 
the chickens that had not yet been thus honored. 
Chester called one “ The Record,” after the paper he 
sometimes sold. Mollie named others for her little 
brothers and sisters. 

“ I would like to live in as good a house as this,” 
remarked Chester, as all stepped into the hennery. 
“ What are those sticks for?” 

‘‘ They are roosts where the hens stay all night,” 
answered Johnnie. 

The barn was next visited, and Johnnie pointed out 
the stalls, over which he had painted the names of the 
horses and cows that belonged therein. 

Bess said that she wanted to show her barrel of 
10 


146 Gems Without Polish. 

kittens,” five soft black balls, that were much ad- 
mired. 

The pig-pen at the farthest end of the barn was 
visited. 

“Just see those five little pigs; how cunning!” 
cried Daisy. “ I don’t see why people are mad when 
you call them pigs, and think it’s nice when you call 
them lambs.” 

“ What little feet that hog has, and how fat she is ! ” 
exclaimed Chester. “ I should think she would feel 
the heat 1 What do you call her ? ” 

“Do you suppose we would disgrace a name by 
giving it to a pig ? ” asked Bee, pertly. 

“I don’t know; but what are pigs good for?” 

“ Salt pork, and ham, and hanging. All we keep 
’em for is to have them fat up by eating. They make 
a business of it.” 

“ I shouldn’t mind being a pig, if I could eat all the 
time,” remarked Chester. “Isn’t it ’most dinner-time?” 

“ When we came by the front door it was eight o’clock 
by that little ‘town-clock’ you have in your entry,” 
answered Mollie. 

“ It makes me think of a circus to see all these ani- 
mals,” said Chester. 

“What’s a circus like?” asked Bess. “Papa 
wouldn’t let me do.” 

“ A circus is com — composed of a lot of wild 
animals and a lot of men and women that try to act 
like wild animals,” answered Chester very wisely. 

“ Something like our fair,” remarked Sadie. 
“Only the animals are tame at the fair and aren’t 
all in cages, and the clowns are the farmers ; good 
ones, too.” 


Eocnd the Farm. 147 

The party next went to the kitchen, where Mrs. 
Lovell was churning. 

“ Just see her make butter in a hand-organ,” cried 
Chester. 

“ FTo, this is a churn ; and you can turn the crank 
if you wish,” said Mrs. Lovell. 

He did so. Spash, splash, splash, sputter, sputter, 
sputter, sputter went the cream in the churn. He 
thought there was more fun and music in this than 
in a real hand-organ. 

After Mrs. Lovell had taken the cover from the 
churn the children looked in. They wondered how 
the batter came there, and why it seemed so different 
from the butter they had in Boston. 

Mrs. Lovell took the butter from the churn, placed 
it in a large wooden bowl, and began to work it with 
her hands. 

“ I never knew that people kneaded butter the way 
they do bread,” remarked Daisy. 

‘AVe do so to get the buttermilk out; people do 
not want buttermilk when they only ask for butter. I 
will make some buttermilk biscuit for dinner.” 

Mrs. Lovell now emptied the buttermilk into a 
pail, and sent the children into the pantry for some 
cups, which she filled, and gave them to drink from. 
She washed the golden mass of butter in two waters, 
then began to salt it. 

“One of the most important points in butter- 
making is to know how to salt your butter just 
right,” she said. “You see I work the salt in just 
as I worked the buttermilk out. Butter that is too 
salt, not salt enough, or not equally salt in all parts, 
is of little value. I use a pint to a pound of butter.” 


148 Gems Without Polish. 

“ Why is butter yellow, when milk is white ? ” 
asked Daisy. 

‘‘ The little particles of butter being diffused 
through the milk do not show their real color. Milk 
consists of two parts : the curd or solid part, and the 
whey or watery part. We set large pans of milk in 
the cellar or some other cool place where there will 
be no odor that it can absorb. The particles of 
curd, being light, rise to the top and form cream. 
After twelve hours we skim the cream off with one 
of those large shells you see on the table. I prefer a 
shell to a tin skimmer. The skimmed niilk we give 
to the pigs ; the cream we put in the churn, and the 
motion caused by the turning of the crank brings the 
little particles together until they form a solid sub- 
stance which we call butter. You know the rest of 
the process.” ' 

‘‘ I never knew that people put their milk to rise 
the way they do their bread,” said Mollie. “But I 
was never in a butter factory before. What lots of 
balls you are making. I should think you had butter 
to last a year. We only buy a ball at a time at our 
house.” 


The Babies. 


U9 


CHAPTEE X. 

THE BABIES. 

“ Motherless baby and babyless mother, 

Bring them together to love one another.” 

Wednesday afternoon Jane and Hortense took 
Harold out to walk. As they passed Mrs. Parker 
they stopped to see her baby, which she was rocking 
in a hammock under the trees, 

Mrs. Hay, a sister to Mr. Parker, was in the yard, 
and Mrs. Sturgis and her baby soon joined the group. 
All, having met at the reception, now felt very well 
acquainted. 

Doesn’t Baby Harold want to come and look at 
iny little boy ? ” asked Mrs. Parker. 

“ Ess’m ; but I isn’t a baby. Ps free ’ears old.” 

Harold leaned over the hammock and took a lono^ 
look at the Master Parker, a beautiful infant of five 
months. 

“Where did him get him ’ittle fingers?” he asked. 
“ What makes him feet so kicky ? I’ll get a kiss in 
my hand for him.” 

Harold kissed his hand and slapped the kiss on to 
baby’s cheek a little too rudely. 

Baby Parker cried ; Baby Sturgis joined in ; so did 
Harold. To add to the general clamor, the three 
mothers tried to comfort their little ones in tones 
less intelligible than the cries of the children. 


150 Gems Without Polish. 

After the infants were quieted Mrs. Sturgis re- 
marked : 

‘‘ I wish that Mrs. Bold would bring her child over, 
then we could see all the babies together.” 

I will run over after her,” said Hortense. ‘‘ She 
is stopping very near here.” 

She hastened to Mrs. Colt’s, and immediately re- 
turned with those for whom she went. 

“What a puny little thing!” exclaimed Mrs. 
Parker, at first sight of the sufiering babe that Mrs. 
Bold was holding so carefully. “ Why, if that was 
my child I should be frightened.” 

She lifted her own babe from the hammock and 
clasped him to her breast. 

“ What a bright, healthy boy you have ! ” said Mrs. 
Bold. “ But mine always was sickly. However, he 
has gained quite a little, even for the short time 
he has been in the country. Mamma hardly knows 
her old, old honey ; does she ? Precious 1 ” 

“ Yes, I think your child has improved,” said Mrs. 
Sturgis. “ See that pink in his cheeks ; this fresh air 
did it all. How fine to sit down in easy-chairs under 
shady trees 1 ” 

“ The air does me as much good as it does baby,” 
said Mrs. Bold, “ and I have nothing to do but to give 
all my time to him while I am here. The other chil- 
dren take nearly the whole care of him at home. 
Sometimes they give him pickles and peanuts, and 
such things, when I am not round, and these make 
him sick.” 

“Pickles and peanuts! ” exclaimed Mrs. Day, with 
a horrified expression on her face. 

“ Yes’m ; and last week I found him a-eating a rotten 


The Babies. 


151 


apple he had picked up from the floor when he was 
creeping round by himself. I think that is what 
brought on his last sickness, but I never told the doc- 
tor so. He always scolds ’bout the way we bring up 
babies, just as if a woman didn’t know more ’bout 
such things than a man. But baby gets the best of 
milk to drink at Mrs. Coit’s ; sugar in it, too, part of 
the time.” 

“ Harold can testify to the good the country milk 
has done him,” remarked Jane, as she took the wild 
flowers that her little son brought her. 

“I weighed him this morning when we drove up 
to the village,” said Hortie, ‘‘ while Jane — O, excuse 
me — Mrs. Meredith — was doing mamma’s shopping. 
I want to see how much he will gain during his visit. 
Mamma and I take most of the care of him. It 
amuses me to hear her give advice on tending babies. 
I have just learned how I was treated when I was an 
infant.” 

“ But I was very grateful for the advice,” said the 
young mother. ‘‘ If some one had given me a few 
hints when Harold was a little baby he might be a 
stronger boy now. I have enjoyed him so much 
since I have been here. I was obliged to neglect him 
a great deal at home, for I had to work so hard to 
keep soul and body together. When I was in the 
dress-maker’s shop I hired a little girl to tend him, 
and she would run off to play on the street and leave 
him alone an hour at a time. I never knew about 
this until he fell down stairs one time ; then the neigh- 
bors just began to tell me how he had been treated 
all along. I then hired another girl to take care of 
him, and, although she did better, she was not the 


152 


Gems Without Polish. 


proper person for such a charge. I would not have 
trusted inj darling with such persons but I conld not 
afford any better help, and only had inj two bands 
to support him and myself. When I would come 
home from my work all tired out 1 would not feel 
like talking and playing with my child, and some- 
times I would be real cross to him. At last I made 
up my mind that I would not do any sewing, if I 
could possibly help it, except what I could do at 
home.” 

“Dear little fellow! I would have helped you 
take care of him if I had known of you,” said Hor- 
tense, as she watched Harold chasing a butterfly, his 
black eyes sparkling and his handsome face flushed 
with delight. 

“Mrs. Dickinson thinks I put too many clothes on 
this child,” observed Mrs. Sturgis, as she wiped the 
perspiration from the face of the little one she was 
holding. “ She just persisted that I should take off 
the pretty little cotton shirt that is all trimmed with 
edging. She said her under-flannels were enough, 
and she doesn’t think I ought to starch her dresses 
so stiff, because they keep her too warm.” 

Mrs. Sturgis now trotted the child on her knee in 
good earnest ; but, not caring for such treatment on 
so hot a day, baby began to cry. 

“ Hush, darling ! I was only trotting my pretty 
one. Don’t cry ; no, no ! ” 

“ The lady I stop with made me change my baby’s 
clothes when I put him to bed,” said Mrs. Boid. “ She 
thought he would sleep better in fresh clothes, and, 
sure enough, the darling did, and his day-clothes had 
a good airing. But I don’t ever change his dress for 


The Babies. 


153 


his night-gown at home — it’s so much trouble. He 
cries nearly all the time at home, but he has only had 
four crying-spells to-day ; I gave him a drink of milk 
every time, but that did not quiet him.” 

“ But, my dear woman,” began Mrs. Parker, “ it is 
no sign that your baby is hungry because he cries. 
Once in two hours is often enough to feed him.” 

“Well, now, is that so! I will remember that. 
And baby had such a fine nap this morning ; it is 
so quiet here, and I can put him off in a room by 
himself where there are no noisy children to wake him 
up the moment he falls asleep. I guess the larnbie 
is going to sleep now — isn’t he, pet ? ” 

“ Goo, goo, goo,” came the answer, and the child 
was placed among the pillows in the hammock, and 
Harold “helped” rock him to sleep. 

“ I s’eeped in a pretty bed last night,” he said, “and 
mamma didn’t cry when she dressed me to-day. She 
cried ’esterday and Sunday, and day before to-mor- 
row, and always.” 

The child was soon fast asleep in its easy bed. 
Then Mrs. Parker called Harold to see her swing her 
baby on the lilac bushes; so he helped “ to hold him 
on,” and he helped to sing : 

“ Rock-a-bye, baby, on the tree top, 

When the wind blows, baby will rock.” 

He then began to talk with Master Parker : “ Why 
doesn’t him answer me? Hasn’t him got any teef, 
so he tant talk? or hasn’t he got anyfing to say? 
He isn’t the whole of a baby; he hasn’t any teef, or 
hair, or wrists. Has him hair all grown off him 
head ? ” 


154 


Gems Without Polish. 


It hasn’t grown on yet,” answered Mrs. Parker. 
“ But what a little chatter-box you are ! Can’t you 
be my boy ? ” 

‘‘No; he’s going to be my little man,” said Mrs. 

-Day. “ Aren’t you ? ” 

“ Touldn’t, any way. Hasn’t ’oo a baby % ” 

“Jesus took my baby back to heaven. She is a 
little angel now.” Mrs. Day brushed the tears from 
her eyes. 

“What makes ’oo cry? I will ask Mrs. Sturgis 
to give ’oo her baby.” 

“ O, Mrs. Da}^, hav^e you lost a little one ? ” asked 
Mrs. Boid, her usually harsh tones becoming soft and 
strangely sympathetic. “ I know what that means ; 
and I was so afraid this one would have to go too, 
last week ; but he is so much better now I haven’t a 
fear.” She clasped the little form still closer to her 
breast, and tried to hide her tears. 

Mrs. Day drew her chair closer to Mrs. Boid’s, and 
gently stroked the little head. 

“ Some people think we poor folks don’t care much 
for our children,” continued Mrs. Boid ; “ but they 
are all we have to love, while rich people have every 
thing that money can buy. Then our little ones have 
almost nothing to make them comfortable, and we 
pity them so much — we love them all the more for 
this reason. The children I lost were such sickly, 
tired-out little things, it seems that all they could do 
was to die. O, if they could only have gone to the 
country ! ” 

“ And if we are cross to our children sometimes,” 
began Mrs. Sturgis, “ may be any one else would be 
in our place. Hard work, headache, no money, not 


The Babies. 155 

half food or clothing enough, from one week’s end 
to another.” 

“ Come, Harold, tell the ladies what the birdies say,” 
said Jane. 

The little fellow jumped up from his play and an- 
swered, Peep, peep.” 

‘‘ That’s a dovey. How what does the lambie 
say ? ” 

“Ball, bah.” 

“ O, that precious boy ! Isn’t he bright ? ” exclaimed 
Mrs. Day, to the great delight of Jane. 

“ Now, mamma’s little man must tell what the kit- 
tie says.” 

“ Moo, moo.” 

“ No, no. The kittie, not the rnoolie.” 

“ Bow-wow- wow.” 

“ Now, Harold, you know. What does kittie say ? ” 
I sha’n’t kiss you unless you tell.” 

“ Mew, mew, mew.” 

“ O, you’re the sweetest baby in the world ! mother 
says so, and she knows,” cried Jane, snatching the 
child in her arms and showering him with kisses, 
which, however, he did not seem to very highly 
appreciate. 

“ Isn’t our baby bright?” asked Hortense, proudly. 

“ So you claim him ! ” said Mrs. Parker. 

“ Certainly. And I have planned hosts of things to 
make for him — lace caps and collars and knitted skirts 
and so on ; I want a change of fancy-work. But what 
is your baby’s name ? ” 

“We just call him Baby; that seems the sweetest 
name we can find for him ; at least, we can’t decide on 
any other.” 


15G 


Gems Without Polish. 


‘VTliis baby hasn’t a name either,” said Mrs. Stur- 
gis, lifting tlie waking child from the hammock where 
she had been lying with Baby Boid, and putting on 
her comical little bonnet. 

I don’t see as she resembles you much,” observed 
Mrs. Day. 

‘‘ Of course not ; she is not my baby.” 

“ Not yours ! ” 

“ No, indeed ! I will tell you her story ; it’s rather 
sad, but we get used to such things in our part of the 
city. About three months ago I happened to go into 
one of the up-stair rents of our block, and saw a woman 
lying dead on an old mattress ; by her side was this 
baby — about three months old then, I should say. 
Three other children, all under five years of age, were 
running about. The oldest one said that mamma had 
gone to sleep and they couldn’t w^ake her up to get 
them something to eat, and papa had gone to the sa- 
loon and didn’t come home. I think the woman had 
been dead for twenty-four hours, but she was a stranger, 
just moved in, so that no one knew that she was sick 
or dead. I expect she died of a broken heart — poor 
woman ! — but folks don’t call for help when they’re 
troubled that way. We neighbors got the coroner 
and the minister notified, and Mrs. Foxcroft was bur- 
ied. The older children were taken to some sort of a 
home, but I just asked the folks that came to settle up 
matters to let me have the baby, and her father, he 
was willing I should. The little thing had taken such 
a hold on my feelings when I saw her a-cuddling up 
to her dead mother and a-crying for some one to no- 
tice her, I wouldn’t trust her with any body else. I’m 
a rough, ignorant woman, but I’m respectable, and that 


The Babies. 


15T 


is how they happened to let me keep baby. My hus- 
band isn’t ’ticular fond o’ children — if we have half- 
a-dozen — and it sort of fusses him to have this one 
’round. Our youngest is only three, and he thought 
I ought to take her to the country instead of this one ; 
but I would not be here at all if it wasn’t for this 
baby. She was so sick the doctor told the country- 
week folks she must get some fresh air. And doesn’t 
the old lambie like the fresh air? Can she smell the 
posies, darling ? ” 

The darling only made up a wry face. 

Mrs. Parker thought that the Foxcroft child might 
have fallen into better hands, but she said nothing. 

Mrs. Day exclaimed, ‘‘ Why couldn’t God have 
taken this child instead of mine? This little thing 
would never have been missed, and I don’t knowhow 
to live without mine.” 

“But it was all for the best,” answered Mrs. Par- 
ker. “What if you had been taken away, and your 
baby left motherless in this cold world as this child 
was ? ” 

“ O, yes, God’s will is mine. He has the first right 
to my child. But I am so lonesome without my lit- 
tle Marian. It seems as if I have nothing to live for 
now.” 

She had been holding the Foxcroft child for some 
little time. It was such a treat to be holding a baby 
once more — almost like having her own back again. 
The babe looked up with a pitiful, pleading expres- 
sion, as if to ask why she could not take little Mar- 
ian’s place. 

“ 0, Mrs. Sturgis has diven ’oo her baby, way I ask 
her to I ” shouted Harold, clapping his hands. 


158 


Gems Without Polish. 


“ I wish she would give it to me, but may be she 
w^ould not want to part with it.” 

“No, 1 don’t want to part with her, but I must,” 
answered the motherly washer- woman. “ I can’t keep 
her through the winter any way — so my husband says 
— and I would rather one of you country-women 
would have her than any body else. N ow, don’t you 
suppose you can adopt her ? ” 

“ I will see what my husband says about it. He 
has been at his mother’s for four days ; I expect him 
home to-night. But she could never take Marian’s 
place.” 

“Why don’t you take baby home and let her visit 
you awhile,” proposed Mrs. Parker. “ You would 
get your husband’s consent the easiest that way, 1 
think.” 

“ Then you think it w’ould be advisable for me to 
adopt the child ? ” 

“ Certainly. She would take up your mind, and 
while you are taking care of her you wont be making 
yourself sick crying for Marian.” 

Mrs. Day was all hope. She asked eagerly, “ O, 
Mrs. Sturgis, can I borrow baby for a day or two? 
AYould she be good without you ?” 

“Yes, to both questions. My children take more 
care of her than I do. She is good with any body. 
Very often some of the neighboi*s wdll borrow her for 
a day, busy as they are. They all take such an inter- 
est in her and give me ’most all of her clothes. 
There’s not a baby in our alley that dresses finer, and 
the boys fitted her up a baby-carriage out of a wheel- 
barrow. But you would better come ’round for a bot- 
tle of the soothing syrup I brought, it quiets her so.” 


The Babies. 


159 


“Kone of that for a baby in mj" care ! Come, let’s 
go home now, lovey.” 

On reaching home, Mrs. Day tied baby into the 
large arm-chair in the sitting-room and told Fido, the 
dog, to watch lier. 

Slie then went np-stairs to little Marian’s drawer. 
Nobody ever went to that drawer but herself. She 
turned the key with less sadness than usual. Little 
Marian’s picture lay among the treasured garments. 
The sweet baby face seemed to say, ‘‘ Let the little 
stranger take my place ; I have gone to a dearer 
Friend. Give your love to one who heeds it more.” 

The mother’s tears fell fast as she kissed the picture 
and cried, “ O, my precious Marian ! My darling ! 
My darling ! ” 

Listen. The still small voice — “Inasmuch as ye 
have done it unto one of the least of these My breth- 
ren, ye liave done it unto me.” 

What would she not do for little Marian’s sake? 
What would she not do for Jesus’ sake? 

Yet, could she give little Marian’s things to another ? 
Every thing recalled some tender memory — the dainty 
dresses, the soft flannel, the little sacks, the pretty bibs 
that Aunt Mattie had sent, the pink pufl that grandma 
— old as she was — had made, the sprays of sweet clover 
that had been gathered when baby was taken out for 
her flrst walk. 

Listen. The still small voice again : “ I was a 
stranger, and ye took me in : naked, and ye clothed 
me.” 

She would not hesitate to give these choice gar- 
ments to the Christ child ; why should she to one in 
his stead ? 


160 


Gems Without Polish. 


Little Marian now wore fairer robes than her lov- 
ing hands could make. Jesus had only taken the 
babe from her arms to clasp it for a while to his gen- 
tle breast. When he walked the earth he had gath- 
ered the little ones in his arms. Baby had not gone 
among strangers. What a comforting thought ! 

She carefully lifted the little skirts and dresses, and 
kissed them over and over. She took one more look 
at Marian’s picture, and locked the drawer, having 
left out a few of the garments. As she returned 
down-stairs she found baby cooing in a most con- 
tented manner. 

‘‘ Come here, lovey,” she cried, taking the little 
one in her arms and beginning to change its ward- 
robe.” Here’s a pretty dress for you. I dess the 
woman couldn’t take very good care of my poor lit- 
tle darling. Don’t the pins in the old dress scratch 
you?” 

“ Goo, goo, goo.” 

“ I knew they did ; but your clothes are just falling 
off you, they are so ragged. My ! my ! you’re just 
melting with two shirties on.” 

“ Goo, goo, goo.” 

“ And how thin you are ! Hothing but skin and 
bones. Well, well ! I guess the lady never gave you 
a bath, but you shall have one now.” 

Taking baby under one arm, Mrs. Day brought lit- 
tle Marian’s bath-tub from the bed-room, and gave the 
young visitor her first respectable bath. 

When baby’s toilet was completed she laughed and 
cooed and kicked in a most delighted fashion — and no 
wonder. Wasn’t it much nicer to be bathed by a 
gentle lady than by a little eight-year-old girl who 


161 


The Babies. 

always scrubbed her tender skin witli a coarse, soiled 
towel? Wasn’t the little knit shirt more comfort- 
able than the rough under-flannels ? Wasn’t it better 
to have her hair brushed with a baby’s soft brush 
than with the coarse brush that was used by the whole 
Sturgis faniil}^ ? Wasn’t the dainty linen slip much 
cooler than the old cotton dress? 

As Mr. Day came up the walk he heard his wife 
singing. She had not sung a note since the death of 
her child — and now a lullaby ! Great was his sur- 
prise as he entered the house. 

‘‘Why, Nell, who have you there ? ” 

“Nobody but a baby. Don’t you think she looks 
something like Marian?” 

“ Don’t mention her. Isn’t it all I can stand to 
see you with a baby in your arms once more, without 
hearing her name ? But am I dreaming ? ” 

“ O no ! But you haven’t kissed me yet, or baby 
either.” 

Mr. Day kissed his wife, then, taking a long look 
at the little stranger, remarked : 

“ I said I would never kiss another child, or love 
one either, after she went. But' whose child is this ?” 

“ Mine,” answered Mrs. Day, carelessly. “ I am to 
be her mother, and you may consider yourself her fa- 
ther or not, just as you choose.” 

Mr. Day smiled ; he picked up the rattle that baby 
had dropped and shook it at her. 

“But, my dear wife— why — whaf — really — where 
did you get that child ? ” 

Mrs. Day told baby’s story. 

“ Well, well I” exclaimed her husband as she fln- 
ished. “Nobody ever does know what a. woman wdll 

n 


162 Gems Without Polish. 

do next ! But the little thing has brightened you up 
wonderfully.” 

“ You are willing that I should keep her, aren’t 
you ? ” asked Mrs. Day, hopefully. 

Mr. Day shook his head seriously. 

“I don’t know. There is that girl Chase’s folks 
adopted. See how she turned out. You never know 
what such children have inherited.” 

‘‘ I know it ; but when I recollected how God had 
adopted me, with all my inherited depravity, into his 
family for the sake of his only Child I concluded to 
adopt this little waif no matter what her natural in- 
clinations may be, and to do so for the sake of my 
only child. I never thought before how very neces- 
sary it was for God to reach humanity through fam- 
ily relations. You see my mind is set on taking this 
child in Marian’s place.” 

“ But there will never be but one little Marian to 
me. 1 think you would better carry this child back.” 

And there will never be but one little Marian to 
me. Wasn’t I her mother ? But I have thanked 
God this very day for taking my darling into his 
keeping ; she is now so much safer than she was 
witli me.” 

“ I, also, have seen things in a different light to- 
day,” said Mr. Day, trying to keep the tears back. 
“ You see, I can never pass the church-yard without 
a look at her grave an}’' more than I could pass this 
room a few montlis ago without a peep into her cradle. 
As I kneeled by the little grave I said, ‘ Thy will be 
done ’ from my very heart. Before, I had only said 
those words because I dared not do otherwise. I 
have seen much wickedness for the last few days in 


The Babies. 


163 


the city, and I thought, What if we had died and left 
our cliild alone in this cruel world ! O I^ellie, if we 
had lived among the temptations of the city it would 
not have taken me so long to pray, ‘Thy will be done.’ ” 

“ Yet this baby may grow up among just such 
temptations if we don’t keep her. But have the 
roses blossomed on little Marian’s grave ? ” 

“Yes; and I brought a bud home to you in my 
coat-pocket. I was afraid it might slip out of my 
button-hole.” 

He passed his wife a dainty pink rose-bud. She 
placed it at her throat. 

“ By the way, here is a new shade of green that 
sister Mattie wants you to use in your Kensington.” 

“Kensington! Don’t mention that to a woman 
with a baby. Here is my fancy-work.” 

The little black-eyed woman held up two tiny socks, 
one completed, the other half knit. 

" “ You have not gotten those out ! ” exclaimed Mr. 

Day. “ The last work you ever did for her ! I knew 
it would just break you down every time you set eyes 
on them, so I hid them. Where did jmii find those 
socks ? ” 

“You can’t hide any thing from a woman in her 
own house. See, I have knit two stripes while baby 
was in her cradle. She is used to taking care of her- 
self.” 

“ But how can you take another stitch on them ! ” 

“ Because I can thank God that the little feet for 
which they were intended will learn to walk in 
heaven, where they will never be led astray, and be- 
cause I would love to anoint my Saviour’s feet with 
costly ointment if he were here ; but he would rather 


164 


G EMS W ITHOUT Polish. 


that I should see that the feet of one of his little ones 
are kept warm.” 

‘‘ O, well, you can give the child any thing you 
choose; but I don’t think I could ever consent to 
adopting her. She may have a worse disposition than 
we imagine.” 

“I think our influence will counteract that, and we 
can leave the consequences with our heavenly Father. 
But you will surely hold baby for me while I get 
supper.” 

With a woman’s quick instinct Mrs. Day knew that 
the child could best plead her own cause, especially 
if she were in the arms of her opponent. Mr. Day 
took the little one, tossed her up several times, trotted 
her, sang to her, and enjoyed the frolic as much as 
she did. Mrs. Day did not return to the sitting room 
until tea was prepared. 

“ Why, James, have you forgotten how to take care 
of a baby ? You hold her so loosely she may fall out 
of your arms.” 

“ But she is such a frail little thing I was afraid I 
would break her if I hugged her too tight,” apolo- 
gized Mr. Day. 

‘‘And you’ve got her clothes all huddled round her 
in such a clumsy fashion — such a warm day too ! 
Tome here, old s’pendid ! Was her papa ’busing 
her? Well, mamma wouldn’t ’low it; no, she 
wouldn’t ! ” 

“Don’t take her quite yet,” cried Mr. Day, begin- 
ning to walk the floor with his young charge. “ Now 
she is in my arms she shall have a place there as long 
as I live.” 

“You dear old soul! I knew you would come 


The Babies. 165’ 

round,” cried the little woman in a delighted man- 
ner. 

Both husband and wife burst into tears, whether 
for joy or sorrow neither knew. But baby just 
laughed and cooed, and in a little while she had her 
papa and mamma laughing also. 

“Her black eyes did it all,” said Mr. Day; “just 
like Marian’s. They seemed to talk to me. It made 
me feel so mean to think that a great, strong man 
like myself could send an innocent little waif back 
to that wicked city, and then almost blame God for 
taking my child from this sinful world. Hature 
must have had some other law in view than that of 
heredity when she gave baby her black eyes.” 

That was the happiest supper that had been eaten 
in the house since the death of little Marian ; yet it 
was not without a touch of sadness. Baby sat in 
Marian’s high chair, wore her bib, drank milk from 
her silver mug, and drummed upon the table with 
her little spoon. 

After supper Mr. Day brought the crib from the 
attic and set it up in “ their room.” He then took 
baby out for a walk while his wife made up the lit- 
tle bed. 

That evening baby was rocked to sleep for the first 
time. She cuddled up to her new mamma like a 
little nestling under the mother-bird’s wing. This 
was far better than going to sleep on a hard mattress 
in a hot, nauseous room, with three or four noisy 
children round. 

Mrs. Day’s lullaby had its soothing effect. Sweet 
sleep came to the little one, who knew not that this 
had been the most eventful day of her short life. 


1G6 


Gems Without Polish. 


Mr. Day went to Boston the following morning, 
hunted up the child’s father, and legally adopted her. 

As no one knew baby’s age, Mrs. Day proposed, 
‘‘Since we are going to give her Marian’s name, why 
can’t we give her her birthday also ? ” So they did, 
and let the record of their child’s birth in the family 
Bible stand for this little stranger. Mr. Day never 
could record the death of Marian, and it was just as 
well ; for some one had now come to fill her place. 


Slight Tkouble. 


167 


CHAPTER XL 

SLIGHT TROUBLE. 

It was Thursday luorning. Johnnie, Chester and 
Ira Tenney were sauntering down the road. Bee, 
Flossie, and Mollie Pitkin soon oveitook them. 

“ Say, Johnnie, where you going ? ” asked Bee. 

Down to the pond ; but you girls needn’t tag 

on.” 

“ What you going to do there?” 

‘‘ I don’t know as we are ’bliged to tell girl folks 
every thing we do; w’e would let you go if you 
weren’t such cry-babies.” 

Johnnie seemed very uneasy over something. 

“ O, I know ! You are going to stone the frogs ; and 
I will tell mother on you, you cruel boys.” 

Johnnie and Chester seemed rather abashed ; but 
Ii*a was very indifferent, and exclaimed, 

‘‘ Now, girls, you oughtn’t to go ; you will siDoil all 
our fun.” 

“No, we like fun too well to spoil it,” answered his 
sister ; “ but we are going to the pond just to keep 
you from stoning the frogs. What have they done to 
yon?” 

“ How do you know we are going to stone them ?” 
asked Chester. 

“Because Johnnie called us cry-babies.” 

“I — I didn’t mean to call you that,” said Johnnie; 


163 


Gems Without Polish. 


“ but if 1 was a girl I wouldn’t want to stick in with a 
whole pack of boys. We fellow^s don’t chase the girls 
every-where they go. O dear, girls are such bothers ! 
They are always tumbling down and wetting their 
feet, and tearing their dresses, and fussing if you run 
ahead and don’t wait for them.” 

“ I would rather be a bother than a brother,” ex- 
claimed Mollie, pertly. 

“ Now, Johnnie,” cried Bee, ‘Gf you stone those 
frogs you will be disobeying your mother, and you 
wont live to be an old man. Don’t you know the 
commandment, ‘ Honor thy father and thy mother : 
that thy days may be long.’ ” 

“ My days are as long as any body’s. And there 
was Kate Bradley ; she minded her mother and she 
didn’t live to grow up.” 

“ Well, I suppose the Lord wants some children in 
heaven, so he takes the good ones like her.” 

‘‘ There, Bee, I’d not talk Bible when I was mad,” 
said Ira. 

“ Well, I guess Aunt Mary told me something about 
frogs that was in the Bible. If Moses were here he 
would put his rod over the pond, and all the frogs 
would come up and go right into the house wherever 
you are.” 

Ira rolled his eyes in mock horror. 

“ My ! would they ? But we wont hurt the frogs 
much; we’ll use little stones. You see, we city fel- 
lows never had a good time stoning frogs.” 

‘‘ Good time stoning frogs ! I am so mad that I 
would eat you right up if 1 was a cannibal.” 

Bee stretched her mouth to its utmost capacity ; 
but Ira seemed rather a big mouthful. 


Slight Trouble. 


1G9 


‘‘ I would rather have cannibals ’round than girls,” 
he answered, trying not to laugh. 

‘^'So would I,” cried Chester. “But see how far 
they have chased us already ; we are half there.” 

“Yes, girls are nuisances,” said Ira. “I am eight 
years old, and I know. Don’t see what my big brother 
wants to flirt ’round with the girls for. I wont ever 
have a girl — or a wife either.” 

“I am ashamed of you,” cried Flossie, looking 
sternly at her brother. “ If I wasn’t afraid of losing 
the country-week I would give you a whipping.” 

“ My ! wouldn’t you hurt, though ! ” 

“ I guess I would.” 

“Now, Chester Dow,” began Bee, “you put John- 
nie up to stoning the frogs; 1 know you did.” 

“No, I didn’t; he said he wmuld show us some 
fun to-day, and we would see who could kill the 
most frogs. But you girls had to come along.” 

Johnnie wished that Chester would not tell so 
much. He interrupted him by saying, 

“And the girls take tadpoles' and put them iii tum- 
blers for ’quariums, and they all die — the tadpoles 
do, not the girls — and it is worse to kill baby frogs 
than big frogs.” 

“ O Bee, can’t we get some of those tadpoles now, 
and have a ’quarium right off ? ” asked Mollie, with 
eagerness. 

“ There, there, you are as bad as the boys,” cried 
Johnnie; “but I was good to the frogs once. Paul 
Jennings put a lot of live frogs into an old milk-can 
and put tlie stopper on tight ; then he left them out 
in the field to starve to death. I happened to pass 
that way and heard them croaking in the old can. I- 


170 


Gems Without Polish. 


peeked in to see what sort of a music-box I had 
found ; I carried the poor things to the pond and let 
them go. Paul’s a good fellow ; but all the boys do 
sucli things.” 

‘‘ How awful ! ” exclaimed Bee ; “ but that was be- 
fore Miss Haines read us the Band of Mercy lessons. 
Did Paul’s mother know it ? ” 

^‘]^o; I promised not to tell her. But when we 
fellows started our Ten last week, we said we’d not 
be so cruel to the animals.” 

“Then what are you going to stone the frogs for? 
O dear! I don’t see what you had to be ’lation to me 
for.” 

The party was now passing Lutie’s home, and lit- 
tle Pei-cj^ Wright joined them in time to overhear 
Bee’s last remark. 

“I should think you’d be ’shamed to quarrel in the 
pretty country,” he exclaimed. “ I will tell the Lord 
on you when I get to heaven, and he wnll whip 
you.” 

“ He doesn’t whip people,” cried Flossie. 

“ But Lutie just showed me a picture in her big 
Bible where he whipped the people out of the meet- 
in’ house, ’cause they were makin’ a sort o’ store out 
of it.” 

“ And Mr. King whips Estelle,” observed Bee ; 
“ and he is a minister, and does it to make her bet- 
ter. We are going to the pond to keep those horrid 
boys from stoning the frogs. Don’t you want to go, 
Percy?” 

He did. 

“There, Lovell, if I had a sister like yours I 
should go crazy,” observed Ira. 


Slight Tkouble. 


171 


The state of affairs suddenly changed. 

If I am mad with Bee I wont have anotlier fellow 
saucing her ; and you have been scolding her too ! 
Nobody has a right to do that but me. She don’t 
use slang — the way your sister does.” 

“ I have only used two slang words since I’ve been 
here,” cried Flossie, her face growing very red ; 
‘‘ and I don’t tattle the way you did about Paul’s 
canned frogs.” 

‘‘ That is so ! ” exclaimed Ira, walking closer to his 
sister ; and she isn’t a tomboy like your sister.” 

You had better look out, Ira Tenney,” cried Bee. 

I feel like a fire-cracker, and may go off before you 
know it. I would rather be a tomboy than a real 
boy. I wouldn’t be you for the world.” 

You couldn’t be me, ’cause I’m myself.” 

“ But Bee is smart, if slie is a tomboy,” exclaimed 
Johnnie. “ I say, fellows, let’s give up stoning the 
frogs and go and stone tlie scare-crows. It’s lots of 
fun, and there are two in our corn-patch.” 

“ No ; you said you would show us how to stone 
the frogs,” answered Chester, sharply. Fill your 
pockets with stones, Percy, and we will show you 
some fun. What are you crying about ? ” 

“ I jest hurted me a ’ittle bit, but I have put the 
tears all back in my eyes again. That’s a ’squito 
biting you. Bee.” 

“ Don’t care if the mosquitoes bite my head off ! 
Every body is having such a good time being mad 
with me I’m going to be ngly too. Aunt Mary 
stepped on my toe this morning and almost snapped 
it off. Johnnie wouldn’t let me take Ins knife ; he 
said I would cut my fingers ofi, ’cause I’m a girl. It 


172 


Gems AYitiioet Polish. 


seems as if the whole day had begun backward ; the 
forenoon has been inside out, every one has been 
picking at me, and now Ira Tenney lias to call me a 
tomboy. His sister eats green apples when Hattie 
Dunlap don’t ’low her to ; so there ! ” 

But I ’low her to eat all the green apples she 
wants,” said Ira. “ She don’t swallow ’em, anyhow, 
and they haven’t made her sick yet.” 

“ And Chester eats green apples too,” said Bee. 
There ! I was just going to stand up for you,” 
said Chester, but I wont now. The fellows told 
me I would see some bees in the country, but I didn’t 
think they would sputter the way you do. Ha-ha ! ” 

“ I guess you never had any bringing up ; if you 
had you wouldn’t have said that.” 

“ I have, too !. I know, for I brought myself up.” 

“ I don’t like you at all, Chester Dow. I wouldn’t 
go to your wedding or your funeral. I will never 
speak to you again.” 

‘‘ Heither will I,” put in Mollie, not even after 
you get back to Boston.” 

‘‘ Hope you wont. You can’t talk the Yankee 
language straight. You break your grammar all up, 
but I can talk proper; Johnnie’s Aunt Mary tells me 
every time I get a word wrong.” 

“Well, I am stopping with the man that has the 
largest farm there ever was in the world,” boasted 
Mollie. 

“ I know of some one who had a bigger farm than 
Mr. Woolridge’s,” exclaimed Johnnie. 

“ Whose ? Your father’s ? ” asked Flossie. 

“ No.” 

“ Mr. Jennings’s? ” guessed Chester. 


• • Slight Teouble, 


173 


“170, Adam’s. He was the first man, and his farm 
reached all over the world. Didn’t he have fun, 
though, naming allthe plants and animals 1 Don’t see 
where he got names enough for ’em.” 

“My Uncle Dick could have named them all,” 
cried Bee. “ He knows so much that he don’t know 
the every-day names of flowers, but only the Latin 
names. He doesn’t know the first name of any body 
but big people like Longfellow, but he calls them all 
Miss or Mr. Why, he reads all kinds of books, al- 
manacs, and grammars, and a Greek book — I think 
it was about a girl called Anna Basis — and he lets me 
look at the pictures in The House of the Seven Ga- 
h riels. That’s a book, you know. You ought to see 
my Uncle Dick.” 

“ I don’t care about seeing him,” answered Ira, be- 
ginning to whittle- the stick in his hand. “Why, I 
have seen the mayor of Boston.” 

“ Ho, that is nothing ! I have recited before our 
supervisor. He talks with us girls in recess. He 
told Sadie Woolridge her hair was growing crooked. 
It was just crimpy, you see.” 

“Yes; and three school teachers called at our 
house all at one time,” said Johnnie. “ What do you 
think of that ? ” 

“ But the whole of them don’t know as much 
as Uncle Dick,” said Bee. “ He is a doctor, and 
knows more about you than you do about yourself. 
He can tell you how many teeth you have without 
counting them ; and he knows what your bones are 
for, and your skin, and every thing.” 

“ I know wdiat your skin is,” exclaimed Percy, 
who had been so busy picking wild flowers that he 


lYi Gems Without Polish. 

had not taken much part in the conversation. Your 
skill is a bag to keep your bones in.” ' 

All lauglied, and forgot they had been quarreling. 
They were now crossing the held very near to the 
pond. 

“ O, there’s a snake — a green snake ! Look quick ! ” 
cried Bee. 

“ He wont hurt you ! ” exclaimed Chester. “ Let 
us kill him, Lovell.” 

“ Of course we will,” answered Jolmnie, seizing a 
large stone, which he was about to throw at the rep- 
tile ; but his little sister caught his arm, exclaiming 
in an angry tone : 

“ Don’t kill that poor snake. He has more right 
to live than you, ’cause he minds his own business and 
you don’t.” 

“ There, don’t be bothering me any more. Bee. A 
snake is a sign of your enemy. If one crosses your 
path and you don’t kill him that is a sign that the ene- 
my will keep on troubling you. But I don’t know as 
I have any enemies.” 

“ I have,” said Ira, who had just succeeded in find- 
ing a rock to throw at the snake. ‘‘ I have. Every 
girl I ever saw is my enemy. Girls are worse than 
snakes.” 

“ O, we are not ! ” cried Flossie ; ‘‘ but your stones 
don’t hit the snake, he goes so fast. Good ! ” 

Johnnie broke a branch from a willow which was 
growing near by, and succeeded in beating the snake 
until it was quite dumpish, then, taking it up in his 
hands, he shouted : 

‘‘ !N’ow, girls, I will throw the snake at you, to pay 
you for chasing us boys.” 


Slight Trouble. 175 

O ! O ! ” shrieked tlie little girls, running down 
the field, the boys after them. 

“ Don’t, don’t ! ” cried Flossie. We will be good, 
and go right straight home.” 

“ Too late to do that now ! ” shouted Chester. “ We 
will pay you back. Ha-ha ! ” 

Tlie girls looked back only once. At sight of the 
green snake Johnnie was waving they quickened their 
pace. 

When the farther side of the field was reached who 
should be found gathering flowers but Daisy, May, 
and Bess. 

“ Wliat is the trouble ? ” asked May. 

O, those horrid boys ! ” cried Bee. 

“ O, that horrid snake ! ” cried Mollie. 

“ I threw the old thing away long before we got 
here,” said Johnnie, laughing. “ That’s where the 
fun is, to til ink you should be so frightened at 
nothing.” 

“ But really, May,” exclaimed Flossie, those boys 
have been planning to kill frogs and snakes — ns girls, 
too, I guess. How, hasn’t one of you boys got that 
snake in your pocket ! ” 

“ Ho, we haven’t,” answered Ira ; “ but it was noth- 
ing but a long, green worm.” 

“I wish I had been the first woman,” remarked 
Bee, still much out of breath ; “ then I would have 
killed that old snake that wanted to get some one 
to eat the apple ; then there wouldn’t have been any 
wicked people or horrid boys ; every one would have 
been good.” 

“I wish I had been the first snake,” answered 
Johnnie; “then I would have bitten old Eve, and 


176 


Gems Withoet Polish. 


that would have been the end of her. If I liad 
made this world I would not have put any women 
in it.” 

“ Why, what makes you say such things ? ” asked 
Daisy. 

‘‘ O, we have had a row.” 

‘‘ I am so sorry,” said May. 

“ The row began with the girls,” explained Ira. 
“ They wanted to go where they weren’t ’vited.” 

The boys wanted to go and stone the frogs,” said 
Bee, talking very fast. “I would have tied their 
hands so they couldn’t if I’d had any string.” 

Johnnie gave his little sister a look that was any 
thing but pleasant. He would rather have any one 
but May know that he even thought of stoning the 
frogs. 

‘‘ O, Johnnie Lovell ! ” exclaimed Bee, indignantly ; 
“ didn't mother say she would have to iron the scowls 
out of your face the next time you looked that way ? 
Seems as if there was a puckering string jest wrink- 
ling your face up.” 

‘‘ Why Johnnie, ’oo’s a naughty boy to -want to 
stone the froggies,” said Bess ; but see, I’s got on my 
blue dwess ; it’s the one ’oo used to wear when ’oo 
was a girl.” 

‘‘When I was a baby, you mean,” corrected John- 
nie, indignant that he should be called a girl. “ Girls 
are nuisances.” 

“ Why can’t you children be more pleasant ? ” asked 
May, with an anxious air. “ I so dislike to see you 
quarreling. Come, sit down under this tree and let 
us have a nice time telling stories.” 

“ Wont, either,” cried Bee.; “you wont ever get 


Slight Trouble. 177 

mad with iis, so we have to get mad with ourselves. 
I don’t like you at all.” 

“ But see these berries I have picked and saved for 
you.” 

O May, I do love yon,” cried Bee, sitting down 
by the side of her sister. 

So do I,” said Johnnie; “ but she is the only girl 
1 ever liked. It seems funny that slie should be so 
nice when she is different from a boy ; but I do not 
like my other sister, Bee.” 

“ But I do,” laughed May, putting her arm round 
Bee. 

O May, how can you be so good to them ? ” asked 
Daisy, ‘‘ when they make you so much trouble ? Why, 
it was only this morning when Bee picked all the 
buds off your rose-bush, just to spite you, when 
she knew you wanted them to blossom while I was 
here.” 

“ O well. Bee was sorry for it afterward ; so I for- 
gave her.” 

“ But I never saw such a girl as you. I am going 
to try to be more patient with my little brothers and 
sisters hereafter. I have been watching you ever 
since 1 have been here, and I have found out that you 
get along better with yours by not scolding them.” 

“ I can tell you a snake story,” said Bee. “ There 
was a man one time who put his hand over the fire, 
and a snake came out of the fire and bit his finger ; 
but it did not poison this man because he was good. 
But snake-bites would poison you boys.” 

Did that man live ’round here ? ” asked Percy. 

“ Ko, he lived in Bible times; ’twas further back 
than 1882 ! Why, it must have been before I was 

12 


1T8 


Gems Without Pc^lish. 


born, ’cause I am eight years old now. His name was 
Paul. I don’t think he was any relation to Paul Jen- 
nings, though. I don’t see why folks are relations 
when their last names are alike, and are not relations 
when their lirst names are alike. But what is the 
matter with your chin, Percy ? ” 

‘‘ I felled down and hurted it and it made me sneeze. 
I wants to go to the pond now, and see the frogs. 
Addie says they all get on the rocks and have a 
concert.” 

‘‘ And when they are on the rocks is the time to 
aim at them, I should say,” observed Chester. 
“ Come on, fellows, let us go and stone them, now 
we have started. What fun it will be ! ” 

Why, Chester Dow, I am surprised ! ” exclaimed 
May. “ Do you think there is fun in stoning 
frogs ? ” 

Chester hung his head ; he had no answer. 

“ Yes ; and I had to get mad for the frogs, ’cause 
they can’t get mad for themselves,” cried Bee.” 

‘‘Well, I’ll never mention frogs again,” said Ches- 
ter, nervously. “ 1 hope they wont send me home 
for being saucy.” 

“ I guess not,” said May, somewhat amused at his 
fear. “ Let us go home now. Of course, you boys 
have given up the idea of stoning the frogs.” 

“Yes, we have,” cried Johnnie. “We would do 
any thing for May.” 

The whole party returned to Mrs. Lovell’s; she 
was sitting on the piazza. 

“O mamma, we have had a row,” cried Bee; “the 
boys wanted to stone the frogs and I wouldn’t let 
them.” 


^ Slight Trouble. 179 

I am very sorry,’’ answered Mrs. Lovell, gravely. 

Each will tell me separately what he or she has done 
wrong ; then there will be no telling on one another. 
I will begin with Bee.” 

‘‘My head is all cluttered up,” said Bee, biting her 
lips ; “ I don’t know what to say ; I only like to think 
of good things. Ask Johnnie first; he has more 
memory than I.” 

“ No. His turn will come soon. I want each to 
tell his part of the quarrel, and no more. I shall pun- 
ish all accordingly; that is, all but Ira, Flossie, and 
Mollie. I shall report them to those whom they are 
visiting. Now, Bee.” 

“ O, mamma, I think it is bad enough to be always 
to blame for every thing without having to be pun- 
ished ; but the boys are to blame for this.’’ 

“ That is for them to tell. How did the quarrel 
begin, Johnnie?” 

Johnnie hung his head and answered, 

“AVhy, mamma, we boys were going to the pond, 
to — well, to stone tlie frogs; and 1— I tried to drive 
the girls home, ’cause tliey’d cry and frighten the 
frogs. I just lied a lie then ; ’twas ’cause I knew the 
girls would tattle ;, that is why I didn’t want them 
round. We might have been there now but for the 
girls and my conscience. My conscience is always in 
the way when I want to do any thing. It’s an awful 
sight of trouble.” 

“ But you would get into a great deal of trouble if 
yon had no conscience. It is the best friend you 
liave. I am surprised that so conscientious and ten- 
der-hearted a boy as you should ever think of ston- 
ing the frogs.” 


180 


Gems Without Polish. 


“ So is my conscience always a-troubling me, too,” 
said Bee, as she began to twirl around on one foot. 

I would like to have Dr. Murray cut my conscience 
out.” 

“O, ’oo touldn’t tut out ’oor tonscience,” ex- 
claimed Percy. Addie told me all ’bout mine last 
night.” 

‘‘ I know best about it. Did not the doctor cut 
a vren from Mrs. Jennings’s head and a cancer out 
of Mrs. Parker’s lip ? I will have him cut my con- 
science out when I find out where it is. It seems 
to be in my hands when I slap, and in my mouth 
when I’m cross, and in my stomach when I eat green 
apples and ma tells me not to. It is somewhere all the 
time, a-jumping and beating.” 

‘‘I will hear your story now, Chester,” said Mrs. 
Lovell. 

“I wanted to stone the frogs, and I sauced the 
girls, and — Will you send me home?” 

“I can’t tell,” answered Mrs. Lovell. “If you 
have not struck or told a wrong story, I may give 
you another chance to be good. But we have to be 
very strict with you city children, for every body is 
watching you ; and if you are naughty other people 
will not take country- weekers. You would not want 
some poor child to lose its good time in the coun- 
try, on your account, would you ? ” 

“I^o’m. But I did not strike. I wanted to, 
though, Bee was so saucy. And she used to strike 
Johnnie. He said so.” 

“ I j ust used to didn’t,” cried Bee, angrily. 

“Now, Beatrice, you can tell your part of the 
trouble.” 


Slight Trouble. 


181 


“ O, mamma, I love you so much ; let me kiss you 
first,” cried the little girl, leaning over her mother’s 
chair. 

. “ There will be time enough for that, by and by.” 

“ All that I did wrong was to be cross and saucy. 
That wasn’t much, and I did it for the frogs — no, I 
am wrong-storying ; I did it partly ’cause I like to 
fight. But please let me punish myself, mamma, 
’cause I know just how much I need more than you 
do. You wouldn’t whip my hands for what my 
tongue said, would you ? ” 

Bee looked very wise. 

“I am sorry that my little girl has been saying 
naughty words. Don’t you suppose it would make 
me say cross words if I should kiss you ! ” 

Bee laughed. 

“ Mamma, my tooth aches dreadfully.” 

“ Then I will get some medicine for it.” 

“ O no. It is not sick enough for that. I guess 
the snaps is what ails me. I snapped over my break- 
fast, and I snapped when I thought the boys were 
going to stone the frogs. O, I guess the others 
caught the snaps of me.” 

‘‘ May be they did,” replied Mrs. Lovell, with a 
smile. “ The snaps are as catching as the measles. 
If you continue to have the snaps I shall have to 
keep you away from the other children. It would 
not be nice for us to invite company to a house where 
a little girl has such a dangerous disease as the 
snaps. I can’t love my little girl if she is naughty.” 

“ I know you can’t, for I don’t even love myself 
now,” answered Bee, who was just beginning to think 
she had done wrong. 


182 


Gems Without Polish. 


I hope that Bee will not forget to ask God to for- 
give her for being so naughty.” 

But, mamma, if God loves us, why does be let 
Satan trouble us ? Satan made me do wrong.” 

“ Because our heavenly Father w^ould not know 
whether we love him or not, unless we minded him 
by saying no to Satan when he tries to make us dis- 
obey God. I would never know that my little Bee 
loved me if she did not go out among naughty chil- 
dren, who try to make her naughty too ; but she 
minds me ’most always, and is good and happy too.” 

Mollie had caught the idea of Mrs. Lovell’s remark. 
She leaned back against the column of the piazza and 
exclaimed, with an important air : 

It makes me feel happy to be good. When a 
girl asks me to steal an apple, and I say no (and it is 
hard to say no when you are hungry), why, 1 feel 
so good ! But if she hadn’t asked me to do naughty 
things I shouldn’t have felt any different from what 
I ever do.” 

“Just so,” answered Mrs. Lovell. “Now, what 
have you to say about the quarrel ? ” 

“ O, I don’t want to be sent home ! But I was 
saucy, and contraryadicted. It wasn’t me that was so 
naughty, it was my tern — temper ; and nobody ever 
talked to me the way you are talking ; they would 
just whip me for getting mad. I wanted to tell Ira 
that he was so poor he looked like a bean-pole with 
a hat on top of it, but I was good ’nuff not to say 
that. O dear ! ” 

Mrs. Lovell wdped the tears from the child’s eyes, 
then called on Flossie, the next witness. 

“ I — I did what the rest did. But I will forgive them, 


Slight Trouble. 


183 


and I will tell on Ira. 1 will, when I get home. 
I wanted to tell him he looked like a knitting-needle 
dressed up, he was so poor. Mollie told me to say 
it, but I didn’t. I told her I would not wear piecened 
hair-ribbons, way she did. O, I am sorry ! ” 

‘‘And I told Chester he just came here to eat,” 
broke in Bee, “ and he ate up every thing when we 
need it to fat up our hogs. But wont you forgive 
me, Chester? I feel as wicked as that old striped 
snake, that told Eve to steal a bite of the apple.” 

“ I don’t know how to forgive you,” answered the 
little fellow. He did not know what to make of the 
various changes of Bee’s disposition. 

“ I guess folks shake hands when they get forgiven,” 
answered Bee, offering both hands to Chester, who 
shook them heartily. - 

Ira’s testimony was next called for. 

“ I didn’t strike the snake,” he said ; “ Johnnie 
did,” 

“ What ! was there a snake in the affair ? ” asked 
Mrs. Lovell. 

“ That was the worst part of it. But really some- 
thing inside of me told me to frighten the girls with 
the snake.” This was a new mode of reasoning to 
Ira. 

“It was Satan; and hasn’t your mission teacher 
told you to tell him to get behind you ? ” 

“ I did tell him to get beliind me, but he didn’t 
stay there any time at all.” 

“ Did you ever ask Jesus to keep Satan behind 
you?” 

“ No’in ; I did not want the Lord to know I was 
’quainted with the old fellow.” 


164 


Gems Without Polish. 


Mrs. Lovell tried to conceal her amusement. 

‘‘ But Jesus has promised to keep Satan from troub- 
ling you, if you will only ask him to do so. Wont 
you try to remember this ? ’’ 

‘‘ Yes’m ; but that old Satan began to twit me of 
swallowing green apples. I — I spit them all out but 
one, and I don’t see how he knows what is in my 
stomach. I just b’lieve he is cross-eyed and can’t see 
straight.” 

“ There ! I told you that you had been eating green 
apples — so has Flossie,” cried Bee, pointing her linger 
at Ira — “ and you both got mad with me.” 

’Twas my old temper again,” said Ira. 

“ Why don’t you ask the Lord to help you keep 
your temper ” asked Mrs. Lovell. “ He will take it 
into his care, and you will scarcely know that you 
ever had a temper.” 

“ I should like to know how I could get along with- 
out my temper. Why, every body is against me ! ” 

“The gentle Jesus can help you over hard places 
better than a wicked temper can. But you should 
stop and think before you speak cross words.” 

“ Why, I am thinking about so many other things 
I forget; really, I am thinking and thinking and 
thinking every single moment. I didn’t mean to say 
the curse words, but they jumped out before I had a 
chance to catch them.” 

“Doesn’t my mamma just know how to talk to 
naughty children ? ” asked Bee. “ I don’t wonder 
Eve stole the apple, ’cause she was never a little girl 
and didn’t have any one to be always telling her to 
be good. Folks don’t tell big people to be good, every 
time they go anywhere, way they do us childrens.” 


Slight Trouble. 


185 


“ I shall punish the boys for planning to kill the 
harmless frogs, for friglitening the little girls with 
the snake, and for using such rude language. I shall 
have to tie a handkerchief over Bee’s mouth, so that 
she can’t speak any more naughty words for at least 
one hour. Ira, Flossie, and Mollie would better run 
home and tell what they have been doing.” 

They obeyed. Mrs. Lovell took Chester and 
Johnnie into the house and shut them up in separate 
rooms. This was the greatest punishment she could 
inflict on such a pleasant day. 

Thus ended the first and last quarrel that occurred 
during the country-week. 


186 


Gems Without Polish. 


CHAPTER XIL 

THE PICNIC. 

Thursday had been set apart for a picnic, and it 
proved to be a pleasant day. 

Early in the morning as happy a group as ever 
contemplated a day’s outing had gathered at Mrs. 
Lovell’s. 

Hortense had hunted up an old-style baby carriage, 
in which little Harold rode. 

Mr. and Mrs. King and Aunt Mary were to assist 
in making this one of the most enjoyable feats of the 
country-week. 

The party walked down the pleasant country road, 
swinging their baskets and joking about their broad- 
brimmed hats. Ben and Philip carried a long pole on 
which they had strung several of the largest baskets. 
Each of the Lady’s-delights had evidently chosen a 
special friend for the day ; and pairs of young girls 
w'ent off, arm in arm, sharing some sweet morsel of 
information. The boys, who had no secrets, ran 
ahead, shouting, singing, and making all the noise 
they could. 

The laughter grew merrier and the chatter in- 
creased as Dunlap’s Grove, the place of destination, 
was reached. Every thing was so delightful — cool 
shade, cool breezes, cool springs, sweet songs from 
the birds, rare fragrance from the flowers, pleasant 
conversation, and new-found friends. Some sat down 


The Picnic. 


187 


on thO mossy banks, others went oif on strolls. 
Many filled their hands with the wild flowers. Little 
Belle called their stems their ‘Miandles.” Those 
that she picked and let wilt she said had ‘‘melt- 
ed.” Addie was afraid to step for fear of crushing 
the flowers and mosses. Percy wondered why coun- 
try people did not have trellises for their vines. He 
pulled up some of the evergreen, and exclaimed at 
sight of the tiny roots, “ What lots of little legs it’s 
got ! ” Mary O’Laughlin asked who watered all the 
flowers in the woods. 

A plot of grass was discovered, through which 
some of the children delighted to wade. Curious 
toad-stools, beautiful lichens, rare mosses, and luscious 
berries were found. Ho one from the city dared to 
taste any sort of a berry without Mr. King’s appro- 
bation. Flossie made a bouquet of all the different 
kinds of berries. She and Mollie had a dispute as to 
what was the prettiest object in the grove. Blanche 
Howe was indignant because one of the boys had 
pulled up a little tree. She thought a certain oak 
must be very old, its bark was so “ wrinkly.” Fred 
Stanwood said that he did not see why God had to 
patch up all the trees and fences with so much moss. 
The children enjoyed climbing the trees and swing- 
ing out upon the branches. The boys played they 
were monkeys and tried to see how many antics they 
could perform. The Knights took great sport in 
teaching the city boys how to “shin.” Both young 
and old carved their names on the trees. Hed Gray 
peeled tlie bark from a pine in the hope of finding 
spruce gum. The cliildren played they were Indians, 
and made trails through the grove by spotting the 


1S8 Gems Without Polish. 

trees. The girls made birch-bark dishes in which to 
gather berries. 

“Are these pines?” asked Fred, pointing to a few 
straggling trees. 

“ ISTo, they are j^in-trees^'* answered Frank. “ Pins 
grow on them instead of leaves.” 

“ I don’t believe it.” 

“It is so; all the pins in the world come from 
trees. People gather them, bleach them out, stick 
them into papers, and sell them. Didn’t you ever 
know that? Feel of this; see how sharp it is.” 

Fred felt of the pine-needle that Frank passed him. 

“ My ! it is sharp ; but you are stuffing me, just tlie 
same.” 

“No, sir. And folks punch holes in these and 
make needles. They put tliem in the sun to harden, 
and leave the pins longer than they do the needles. 
Didn’t you ever hear of a pin farm?” 

“No! but I am ready to believe ’most any thing 
but this, I have heard so many queer things since I 
have been in the country.” 

“ There is Mr. King ; ask him if these are not pine- 
needles.” 

Sure enough, the minister said they were. Fred 
was convinced. However, as soon as Mr. King heard 
the bit of nonsense about the pins he rebuked Frank 
severely for making use of a falsehood, even in jok- 
ing, and for letting the city guests lose confidence in 
him. He then gave some facts about the pine and 
other trees that were stranger than fiction. When 
he had finished, Fred pointed up to the cones and 
asked some one to get him a bunch of the “ window 
fiowers.” 


The Picnic. . 


189 


The ferns were much admired by the city children, 
who ran about examining the under part of the 
various ferns to tind the tiny seed, or “fairies’ 
money.” They could not understand why the yarrow 
leaves were not called ferns. Mary O’Laughlin took 
a number of fern roots, which she said slie was going 
to sell in the city. 

“ That’s a good idea,” said May. “ The ferns are 
my favorites. But isn’t nature just beautiful ! ” 

“ What is nature ?” asked Mary. 

“ Nature is every thing that God made and man 
has not made over.” 

“ Do the people where I live know there are so 
many beautiful things so near to Boston?” asked 
Maggie. 

“ O yes, of course.” 

“ Then why don’t they tell me about these flowers 
and birds ? ” 

“ They did not think about it ; but here is Mrs. 
King ; let us ask her to tell us about the birds.” 

The bright little woman was only too glad to 
do so. 

“ I should think the birds would be tired of singing 
all the time,” observed Minnie George. 

“ Would you get tired of being happy all the 
time ? ” asked Mrs. King. 

“ O no. I think 1 should be happy all the time in 
the country ; every little flower and leaf makes me 
happy this morning ! ” 

“ Why, No. 18, I never heard you talk that way 
before,” exclaimed Ellen Kellett. 

“1 shouldn’t want folks to call me No. 18,” said 
Bee. “ Has your mother eighteen children ? ” 


190 


Gems Without Polish. 


O no ; that is mj cash numbcT. How I hate that 
store ! ” 

“ I have been just listening to the birds for about 
an hour,” said Laura. “ They seem as happy as I 
am. What a pity they know nothing of the God 
who made them ! ” 

“ But it seems a greater pity that there are people 
who might know of God, and yet wmnt,” answered 
Mrs. King. “What wonderful care God takes of the 
birds. No wmnder they can sing, wdien he never fails 
to provide them wdth food and shelter. Doesn’t it 
seem as if tliat robin on the little tree near me 
poured the wdiole sweetness of his life into his song ? 
The robin is one of the first of birds to come and the 
last to go. This morning I saw a robin beating a 
w^orm to death for his breakfast. He had a large 
nest in a tree in our orchard. Such beautiful blue 
eggs as it was filled with last spring 1 When I w^as 
a little girl I used to rob the robins’ nests and string 
tire eggs for a necklace. I am sorry nowL Sometimes 
the birds wmuld try to drive me away from their nests, 
and 1 don’t blame them for doing so.” 

“See that little bird that is standing on nothing,” 
cried Lizzie. 

“That is a humming-bird. Hotice wdiat a long 
bill he has, wdth wdiich he draws honey from the 
flow’ers. There are about four hundred species of 
humming-birds in different parts of the world. Ah, 
see that chimney-swallow flying over our heads. Let 
me tell you of the nest of the bird — which, by the 
w^ay, is really only half a nest. It is built of the tiny 
twigs of a tree, wdiich are broken off by the birds dur- 
ing their flight, and caught by their feet, and carried 


The Picnic. 


191 


to tlieir building spots. The chiinnej-swallows, or 
swifts, for that is their correct name, secrete a sort of 
saliva which is used in cementing these twigs to- 
gether, and in fastening them to the chimneys or to 
liollow trees where they usually build. These eco- 
nomical little birds build their nests so that the tree 
or chimney furnishes one side.” 

That is similar to the way the people in the East 
build their houses against the walls of the cities,” said 
Aunt Mary. 

“The chimney-swallows never light nor rest,” con- 
tinued Mrs. King, “ except at night, in their nests. 
These nests have no linings, so you might say their 
little ones sleep on a bedstead without any bed. 
These birds are good fly-traps, and devour great quan- 
tities of flies and insects. Their bills are so full of 
them at times that they will actually fall out.” 

“ I tried to count the swallows that came out of the 
chimney of the old haunted house, one time,” said 
Paul. “ I got up to one hundred and fifty, and had 
to give it up. They fly around in a circle and make 
a great chattering. One time, when the swallows got 
in our chimney, I built a fire and smoked them all 
out.” 

“ Of course you children have heard about the 
birds migrating,” said Aunt Mary. “Every spring 
they come Korth, to be away from the heat of the 
South, let us suppose, and have their country-week 
in our cool fields and forests. Instinct teaches 
them to go to the same place every year. They 
build their nests, raise their young, and, when fall 
comes, return to the South. Tliere is an empty nest 
in the elm yonder. The birds’ houses are always 


192 


Gems Without Polish. 


vacant after tlie builders leave them ; no one ever 
moves in. They have a new house every year, which 
they build themselves. 1 have noticed that there are 
no poor among the birds ; one has as good food and as 
good a home as another. May be some of you can 
iind a nest if you hunt round.” 

The search for nests began. Estelle found a nest. 
Her mother explained how the birds gathered the 
grass and hay so patiently, to build their nests, 
then lined them with thistle-down. The smaller 
children tried their hand at nest-building, but did not 
succeed very well. 

‘‘ I have a nest at home with some of my liair in 
it,” said Bee. When I saw the birds building in our 
apple-tree and hunting up all the strings and rags for 
their nests, I made up my mind 1 would give them 
something to show I ’preciated their singing, so I cut 
off my curls — O, they were so long and lovely ! — 
pinned them to the clothes-line with clothes-pins, 
and the birds came and picked out the hairs for their 
nests. I am sure the baby birds thought the color of 
their walls was a beautiful gold. When mamma saw 
my hair all gone she was vexed, and took the curls 
off the line to keep.” 

“What a funny tail that cat has!” exclaimed Ira, 
as something glided past the little group. 

“ Ha, that is a squirrel ! ” cried Raymond. 

“ What is a squirrel?” 

“An animal that builds nests in trees, and stores 
away nuts to eat in the winter. Last fall I found a 
whole heap of nuts that a squirrel had piled up near 
the foot of the tree where he had his nest. He was 
waiting till he had a larger pile before he took them 


The Picnic.. 


193 


into his nest, and had covered them up with dead 
leaves, so the otlier squirrels would not find them ; 
but I did — and weren’t they good ! ” 

“You cruel boy!” exclaimed Ellen. “I think it 
is as bad to steal from animals as from people.” 

“ I think it is worse,” said May, “ because animals 
can’t have those who steal from them punished as 
people can.” 

“ But animals has God to stan’ up for ’em,” said 
Estelle. 

The younger children now took off their shoes and 
stockings and waded the brook for about half a mile, 
over slippery rocks and under alders whose over- 
reaching branches formed leafy bridges. At the sug- 
gestion of Aunt Mary they played that this was the 
Nile, and they were hunting for its source. 

After they had tired of the brook, Philip McBride 
suggested that the boys play Bobinson Crusoe. 
Frank consented to be this illustrious hero, and Ned 
Gray was Friday. The two made rude bows and ar- 
rows from such material as could be found, and shot 
at imaginary animals. Ned put Frank’s foot on his 
head as a sign of submission, and called him master; 
he, however, was not quite so fond of hearing him- 
self called a savage. The other boys took turns, aft- 
erward, in being the two heroes. 

During the entire forenoon little blind Laura sat 
under one tree, her grandmother by her side. She 
did not care to talk, but just to listen to the sweet 
sounds with which the grove was filled— the purling 
brook, the singing birds, the murmuring breeze, the 
laughter of the children. Every body seemed to un- 
derstand her wish, and spoke but a word or two as 
13 


194 


Gems Without Polish. 


they brought her their largest berries, their rarest flow- 
ers, and the choicest dainties from their baskets. 

Blanche Howe did not move from her chosen seat 
among the wild flowers for the whole forenoon. She 
threw her crutches aside, leaned back against a large 
oak, and watched the other children at their play. 

The Bold baby enjoyed the day as much as any 
body. He took a long nap in the hammock that had 
been brought for the benefit of the picnickers. 

Little Harold gathered flowers, rolled in the moss, 
and was as happy as he could be. 

Dinner was eaten at twelve o’clock. Several table- 
cloths had been spread on the ground, and the food 
placed upon them without dishes. Due to the home 
influence of the past few days the table-manners of 
the city children had greatly improved since the re- 
ception, and their appetites also had improved. Paul 
Jennings had brought a large can of milk, which was 
much appreciated, but the cool water that could be 
dipped from the spring near by was the greatest lux- 
ury. After dinner Baymond passed around a birch- 
bark box of thorns for tooth-picks. 

As the older girls were clearing away the dinner 
Mr. King appeared with a large, well-filled bag. 
What could it contain ? The children were eager 
to see. He emptied the bag. Dozens of beautiful 
russets rolled over the ground. The little people 
shouted and scrambled for apples. The girls quickly 
filled their laps ; but the boys — what should they do ? 
Of course their pockets were full — who ever heard 
of a boy’s pocket that was not full ? — and they could 
not stop to empty them. Their stomachs, however, 
were wonderfully elastic ; so they sat down on the 


The Picnic.^ 


195 


ground and ate and ate and ate until they could eat’ 
no longer. Some of the little fellows would hold an 
apple by the stem and devour it in three or four 
bites ; others would lay aside for future use several 
apples which they had spotted by the print of their 
teeth. 

Come and see this little city,” cried Mr. King, 
pointing to a number of small mounds. 

“ What is the name of the city ? ” asked the chil- 
dren, as they ran to the spot where the pastor stood. 

“We might call it Antapolis ; but be careful not to 
step on the little citizens. I would dislike to kill so 
wise an insect as an ant.” 

“ Guess we have frightened them,” said Minnie. 
“ How fast they walk with their little legs ! And there 
is one walking backward, and another running up a 
spear of grass.” 

“Here is a sort of funeral procession,” said Mr. 
King. “ This ant is carrying the dead body of one 
of his friends away for burial ; and those other little 
fellows are carrying pine-needles with which to bury 
him.” 

“ One time the ants got in the habit of coming into 
my pantry for crumbs,” said Hattie Dunlap. “ I once 
killed one or two of them, and that frightened the 
others away. When they were about half way to the 
outside door, they told the ants that were coming in 
what might happen if they should enter the closet. 
So these ants turned around and all went out-doors.” 

“ How can ants talk ?” asked Eaymond. 

“By signs,” answered Mr. King, “ just as naughty 
boys and girls often talk in school by means of the 
deaf and dumb alphabet. Ants talk by touching one 


196 


Gems Without Polish. 


another’s antennge, which are those thread-like hairs 
near their mouths.” 

“ I thought those were tlieir whiskers,” said Bee. 

I thought they were their front legs,” cried Es- 
telle. 

“ Other insects have similar antennae,” said Mr. 
King. 

“ I shouldn’t think they would be called antennae 
on any thing but ants,” said Mollie. “ But see that 
ant carrying one of the crumbs I threw him. It is 
bigger than he is. What else do ants eat ? ” 

“ They eat what is called honey-dew, which you 
sometimes see on the leaves of vegetables. This is a 
secretion from little lice called aphides, and wmuld in- 
jure the plants by stopping up the pores of the leaves 
if the ants did not gather it. Sometimes the ants eat 
decaying animal and vegetable matter.” 

The gay butterflies that were flitting about attracted 
much attention. Belle called their wdngs their ears ; 
she asked why there were so many eyes on their wings. 
When one would unfold his wings and fly away, Percy 
said that the butterfly had bursted.” 

“The butterflies only fly in the day-time,” said 
Aunt Mary. “It seems as though they wanted to 
display their beautiful silk dresses. I once looked at 
a butterfly’s wing under a microscope. It seemed 
adorned with the most delicate of feathers, which, 
however, wwe only the scales that you can brush so 
easily from the butterfly.” 

“ I once had a tame butterfly,” said Jeanie. “ He 
stayed in the sitting-room among the plants for a week, 
i would take him on my hand and feed him with sugar 
and water from a spoon. After he had sucked up all 


The Picnic.^ 


197 


the dinner he wanted with his proboscis, he would 
keep coiling it out and in to dry, then roll it up and 
put it away under his head. I named him ‘ Sylph.’ ” 

“ Perhaps you city children will be surprised to 
know that the butterflies were once nothing but cater- 
pillars,” said Mr. King. 

They were surprised. 

“But it is nevertheless true,” continued Mr. King. 
“ The caterpillar does nothing but crawl and eat, then 
he throws ofl his skin and becomes a chrysalis ; that is, 
he is wrapped in a new covering. You might say he 
had gone into his grave, for he has no distinct head 
or limbs, and appears to have no life. After a time 
the chrysalis opens and a beautiful butterfly comes 
forth, spreads his wings, and flies away in the bright 
sunshine. The wings are rather soft and crumply at 
first, but will harden in time.” 

“ What makes the caterpillar grow into the butter- 
fly ? ” asked Ellen. 

“ Because the same life exists in both caterpillar 
and butterfly. Just so the soul of man can change as 
easily from one body to another. We grope in the 
dust of this world like the caterpillars. Then we ap- 
pear to die and are put in our graves, which, however, 
cannot hold our immortal selves, and, like the butter- 
flies, we receive a new and lovely bod3\ Notice these 
caterpillars near this bush — how repulsive they are, 
how slowly they crawl ; yet the same caterpillars that 
have crawled side by side with them may be these very 
butterflies flying so swiftly in the sunshine, feeding on 
the honey of flowers, happy and free, and looking 
down upon their poor companions of former days, yet 
unable to bring them to tlieir new world. The weary 


198 


Gems Without Polish. 


plodders of the dust must wait until nature has her 
course. So there is a beautiful world above us where 
our spirits may soar after they have left these mortal 
bodies. The whole place will be glorious with the sun- 
shine of God’s love ; and we shall flit from one pleasure 
to another as gayly as the butterflies do. This new 
world may be as near to us as the haunts of the but- 
terfly are to the home of the caterpillar ; yet we know 
little more of our future state than does the caterpil- 
lar of his. We too must wait until nature has her 
course. Whether or not we, like the butterflies, can 
look down on those we leave behind is unknown. 
But it is certain that God can look at the same time 
at mortals and angels, just as we are now watching 
both the caterpillars and the butterflies.” 

All talked for some time about this beautiful lesson, 
after which Aunt Mary said : 

“Suppose you children pla}^ that you are butter- 
flies. I will tell you about these species, and about 
many more that come at other seasons. I will call 
you by their names, so that you can easily remember 
them.” 

The children were soon named. Golden-haired 
Flossie was the clouded-yellow butterfly. The pure 
yellow brimstone was Mollie. Lizzie Kellett, who 
wore a spotted dress, was the peacock butterfly. 
Bess was the little blue butterfly, whose dress w^as 
just the shade of her. The veined white was Belle. 
Johnnie, who was fond of climbing tall trees, was 
the purple emperor, that is often seen on the top of 
high oaks. Frederick was the swallow- tailed but- 
terfly. 

The children who 'svere not named were collectors, 


The Picnic. 


199 


and chased the butterflies with their hats. Sadie 
caught Mollie, but decided neither to smother her to 
death in a little box nor to pin her to the wall for an 
ornament. Addie threw her large shade-hat over 
Belle, and declared she had caught such a sweet little 
butterfly that she would have to let it go. 

“ I am so tired,” cried Flossie after a while, “ and 
my arms are tired of flopping for wings. Do the 
real butterflies get as tired of being chased as we 
do?” 

“ They do not like it very well,” answered Aunt 
Mary. “ It is cruel to kill them merely for your own 
amusement. Isn’t it better to catch butterflies in this 
way ? ” 

The children thought that it was. 

The boys and girls now went to the pond, which 
was not far distant, and Mr. King gave them a row, 
taking six or eight at a time. Some of the city chil- 
dren tried to learn to row and steer. 

The Knights had brought fishing-tackle. They in- 
formed the little girls that all who cried for fear the 
fish would be hurt,” should be sent away. 

“We will be good,” promised Ellen. “ But I should 
think you might tie that worm on the hook, so as not 
to put it right through his body.” 

Chester was the first to throw his line. 

“O I’ve got a bite right off! ” he cried. 

“ Then pull him in, you crank ! ” shouted Philip. 

He was too long about it, however, and lost his 
fish. 

Frank Bradley now pulled in the first fish and flour- 
ished it in the air ; the city girls shrieked, and ran 
from the shore. 


200 


Gem3 Without Polish. 


James Garfield and Abraham Lincoln each caught 
a fish — to his great delight. 

After fishing had lost its charms, Mr. King called 
the young people to look at a dead mole that he had 
just found. 

“ Mr. and Mrs. Mole are much attached,” he said. 
“ They never go visiting, but stay very closely in their 
little houses.” 

“ Where are their houses?” asked Lucretia Kent. 

“ The moles dig their houses in the ground, usually 
under stones and the roots of trees, and away from 
paths and roads.” 

Live under the ground ! ” exclaimed Bee. “ I 
should not want to live in a grave before I was dead. 
It is bad enough to have dirt tracked into your house 
without having a house made of nothing but dirt.” 

“ When you recollect that bees live in wax houses ; 
hornets in paper houses ; spiders in thread houses ; 
and birds in liouses made out of hay, moss, and feath- 
ers, it does not seem strange that moles should live 
in dirt houses. The mole has little chambers and 
halls in his house. All the moles build their houses 
after the same pattern. There are passages leading 
from each house, through which the mole can escape 
in case of danger. Mrs. Mole helps her husband 
build the house; he returns the favor, and helps her 
with the house-work; also in tending the four or five 
baby moles that come to gladden their home. You 
notice that the mole’s fore feet are provided with claws 
with which to dig, and that the hind feet are large and 
broad, so as to throw back the earth.” 

“ She hasn’t any eyes,” observed Minnie. 

‘‘ 0 yes ; the mole has tiny bead like eyes. There 


The Picnic. 201 

are little folds that cover over them, to keep out the 
dirt.” 

^^What do moles eat?” asked Fred, who consid- 
ered eating the most enjoyable part of living. 

• “ They eat acorns, tender roots, and worms. They 
go out and dig worms for dinner just as we dig pota- 
toes. They always skin the worms before eating 
them. The little mounds, that are often called mole 
hills, are caused by the soil which they throw up 
while hunting for worms.” 

The old “haunted house,” which stood in a field 
a few rods from the grove, was now visited. It 
had been deserted for years by reason of the ghost 
stories connected with it. The city women wished 
that they could fit up this house and move their 
families here, away from the evils of tenement life. 

It was a large, square farm-house with one chim- 
ney, and that in the center. Its color, a dark homely 
brown, was well preserved. Bee said that the old 
house always wore its “ wash dress.” The wood- 
bine, which seemed the only remaining friend of 
past days, was tenderly clinging to the walls and 
even creeping in through the broken windows and 
running along the fioors, as if to hide their bareness. 
Kemnants of a fiower-garden could be seen near by 
— a few marigolds, bachelor’s-buttons, and ragged- 
sailors — which appeared much at home among the 
weeds and brambles. 

All entered the haunted house. The children played 
“ puss in the corner ” in the large rooms. Estelle 
and Bee placed their mud-pies in the dilapidated 
pantry. The Knights explained how this had been 
their castle for two years, and how part of them had 


202 


Gems Without Polish. 


become enemies, stormed the place, broken the win- 
dow-glass, and caused the inmates to surrender. The 
front door had been unhinged, and now served as a 
sort of draw-bridge. 

The young people then played that the castle was 
a summer-home for country-weekers. Lucretia Kent, 
who felt as young as if she were a child herself, 
offered to be care-taker. All left the house for a 
while and then returned. Mary had spread an unex- 
pected lunch in the dining-room. Hortense, who had 
little Harold in her care, passed as a sick woman go- 
ing to the country for her health. Sadie Woolridge 
played that she had never been to the country before, 
and asked all sorts of absurd questions about the flow- 
ers and trees. Jeanie imagined that she was a shop- 
girl. Paul Jennings suddenly became a bootblack ; 
and Johnnie a newsboy. The city boys and girls 
played they were the country people entertaining the 
others. Each party obtained a better knowledge of 
the other by this imaginary change of places. 

After supper had been eaten in a most delight- 
ful spot, the picnickers started for home, their hats 
trimmed with evergreen, and their baskets filled with 
the numberless mementoes that nature offers so lav- 
ishly to her children. 


A Kainy Day. 


203 


CHAPTER XIIL 

A RAINY DAY. 

“ The day is cold and dark and dreary ; 

It rains, and the wind is never weary.” 

But the young peo23le were having one of the best 
of times in Mrs. Lovell’s cosy sitting-room. Hed 
Gray and his brother had come in for a while ; and 
Mrs. Bolton, fearing that her home might be unat- 
tractive to guests at such a time, had sent the Kellett 
sisters over to Mrs. Lovell’s to spend the day. 

The attic was immediately visited. The walls were 
hung with every kind of herb that could be found 
within a radius of ten miles. The portraits of the 
Lovell family for the past three generations— rough 
paintings, whose places in the parlor had been given 
to more attractive pictures — now stared at the young 
visitors in a ghastly manner. The room was literally 
packed with old-fashioned furniture. 

Johnnie proposed that they play house. Chester 
was surprised at such a suggestion from a boy, but 
changed his mind when he learned that the girls 
always had something to eat when they played 
house. 

To amuse the younger children Daisy and May 
consented to play with the rag-dolls that were found, 
and even attired themselves in some of the old dresses 
and I'jonnets. 


204 


Gems Without Polish. 


Bee dressed up a pair of black andirons in lier 
doll’s clothes. Ben offered to be parson and to 
marry the colored couple, both of which looked very 
happy, with their chalk eyes beaming and their 
large white teeth showing. Here is the marriage 
ceremony : 

“ I marry you by the church and steeple ; 

By the parson and his people ; 

By my father’s old jack-knife — 

Now I pronounce you man and wife.” 

All sang Happy be the bridegroom,” after which 
wedding-cake in the shape of ginger-bread was served. 
Just as the happy couple had started on their bridal 
tour upon the large spinning-wheel, which served as 
a steam-boat, with Chester as captain, there was a 
sudden commotion. Every body shrieked ; Lizzie 
dropped the old foot-stove which she carried as a va- 
lise ; Ellen’s head went out of sight into her big bon- 
net ; Bess fell behind an old barrel ; several of the 
ancestors lost their dignity and descended from their 
places of honor ; the bride and groom fell to the door, 
and, hitting against each other, were both beheaded. 
Had the steam-boat collided ? Ah no ! Had the 
scuttle fallen? Hot that. A rat had run across the 
floor ! 

When all had returned down-stairs. Aunt Mary 
proposed that they play post-office ; a new way. 

“ I will tell you about the present rulers of some 
of the different countries, and let you re})resent these 
and correspond with one another. I will tell each 
one certain facts concerning himself and the ruler to 
whom he is to write. In this way you can learn a 
great deal.” 


A Rainy Day. 


205 


“ What fun ! ’■ exclaimed Ben. “ I will be king 
of Hungary, ’cause I am hungry all the rime.” 

“I want to be Queen Victoria,” cried Bee, “or the 
queen of the Caterpillar Islands.” 

“ You mean the Cannibal Islands,” said May. 
“ W ell, I will be the queen of Spain, and Bess can 
play that she is the baby king. I have read all about 
him.” 

“ I want to be Cleveland,” cried Ked ; “ for may 
be I will be president sometime.” 

“Here is the emperor of China,” shouted Chester; 
“ but where is my pig-tail ? ” 

“I am the president of France,” exclaimed little 
Johnnie. 

Aunt Mary then asked Daisy to be the czar of 
Russia, Ellen the sultan of Turkey, and Lizzie the 
king of Italy, to which they consented. Writing 
materials were brought out and all began their let- 
ters. Johnnie lay flat on the floor and wrote upon 
a wooden cricket ; Bee sat on the table and wrote 
against the wall ; Lizzie chewed her pencil for at 
least eight minutes before she could think of a sin- 
gle thing to write. One by one the letters were fin- 
ished, sealed, directed, and dropped into May’s work- 
box, to be collected and distributed by Postmaster 
Gray. Aunt Mary read each letter aloud, after the 
one to whom it was directed had read it. Here is 
Chester’s to Bee : 

“ Chinatown, July 23 , 1887 . 

“ Mrs. Queen Victoria — I thought I would write to 
you to let you know I am well. I hope you are the 
same. I am sixteen years old, but, being emperor, 
can add two years to my age. Are you as old as 


206 


Gems Without Polish. 

that ? lam old enough to be married. Aunt Mary 
— O, I mean one of the men of my court told me 
that the English opium trade in my country is a nui- 
sance. The opium makes the China people dumpish, 
and they ought to plant the ground with something 
better than poppies. T think the English people are 
so comical ; those we have here are. They wear 
black for mourning, and we wear white. They begin 
on the first page of a book to read ; but we begin at 
the last page. I have been emperor ever since 1875. 
How long have you been queen ? I am to be mar- 
ried very soon, but have never seen my bride. One 
of the Englishmen says we need more missionaries, 
and wants you to send a cargo. But I believe in Con- 
fucianism (I guess that is what they call it, and I have 
tried to spell it right). There is to be a great time 
over my wedding. Kwangsu. 

“To Queen Victoria, Queen of London, care of Lord Tennyson.” 


Here is the answer (dated the same day) : 

“ Lonlon, En’GLAND, July 23, 1887. 

‘‘ Mr. Emperor of China — My Aunt Mary — I mean 
my prime minister (I think that is what they call 
him) told me to answer your letter. I am sorry you 
did not come to my party last month ; I had it be- 
cause I have been queen fifty years. Of course I am 
older than you are ; I forget how old auntie said I 
was. She tells me what to write (but don’t let any 
one know it). 

“ I wish you would have the Chinese fix their hair 
in a new style ; I do not like pig-tails. I think the 
loose dresses the Chinese laundry-men in Boston wear 


A Rainy Day. 


207 


look awfully, I have underlined that word, ’cause it 
means I mean what I say very much. Grandma 
puts marks under the words when she writes to me. 
If I was a man I would not wear dresses the way your 
people do. Are you any relation to the Chinaman 
that irons Uncle Dick’s shirts ? He irons them good, 
he does. Hope you’ll send me some wedding-cake. 
Come and see me sometime ; but I will not give you 
rats to eat. I will send you my picture the next time 
I have it took ; and I want one of yours if you have 
any for me. But I can’t think of any thing more to 
write. Give my love to your new wife auntie told 
me you will have. Your friend, 

“Yictoria Alexandrina. 

“ To Kwangsu. 

“P. S. Auntie says there isn’t a woman in China 
that wants her girl to marry the emperor, ’cause she 
don’t see her again. You had better let your wife 
go home once in a while after you are married. 

‘‘B. L.” 

Here is the note that Baby Alfonso sent with his 
mamma’s letter to President Cleveland. (May wrote 
it for Bess.) 

Mr. Cleveland — I am the smallest king in the 
world, and one of the best of babies. I have my 
mamma, and I don’t care much for any thing else. 
I have a dear little sister ; she would have been 
queen if I had not come along and taken her place ; 
but she does not care as long as she has a baby brother 
to play with. 

“ When I am a man I mean to be as good to my 


208 Gems Without Polish. 

people as you are to yours. I had a fitie birthday last 
May — but nurse wants me to go to ride now. 

“ Good-bye. Alphonso XIII., King of Spain. 

“Grover Cleveland.” 

The following is the letter Ned wrote to Lizzie, 
who played the part of a king : 

“Washington, D. C., July 23, 1887. 

Mu. Humbert : 

“ Honorable Sir — I am very busy, and have not 
much time to write to people I don’t know, but I 
thought I would write to you. I can be president 
but for four years, so I have to make the most of it 
while I am president. I should think it would be fun 
to be a ruler all your life. But we have to be gener- 
ous in the U. S. and give every one a chance to be 
president. You see U. S. spells us, and that takes in 
the whole ; the women think it means them too. I 
hope it does. 

'* They have just been telling me how good you 
were when the people were all so sick in your place. 
What was the matter with them? The cholera? 

“ Do you have a country- week in Italy ? If you do 
not, I can tell you it is the best thing in the world. 

“ Give my love to Queen Margherita. Tell her to 
write to Mrs. Cleveland. If you ever come this way 
call at the White House. Yours truly, and in haste, 

“Grover Cleveland. 

“ King Humbert, Italy.” 

The boys and girls were delighted with this game, 
and spent over an hour in writing letters and in mak- 
ing visits to the various imaginary rulers. After 


A Rainy Day. 


209 


dinner the children gathered at the windows to watch 
the beautiful rainbow. 

“I am glad that the rain is all over,” observed 
Ellen. 

“But it is over all,” said Aunt Marj, “and too wet 
for you to go out of doors ; so suppose we content our- 
selves with making autograph albums. Please bring 
my portfolio. Bee.” 

All brought their chairs up to the table, which was 
soon strewn with paper that Daisy and Ellen were 
cutting into all sorts of fanciful shapes for the albums. 
May was decorating the covei*s with pen-and-ink 
sketches or with embossed pictures. Lizzie and Bee 
were tying the leaves together with narrow ribbons. 
Ben and Ned had returned to Mrs. Andrews’s, but May 
was to make an album for them. Chester and John- 
nie were playing “fox and geese,” and stopping now 
and then to give suggestions concerning their albums. 
Either Aunt Mary or May wrote a dedicatory verse 
for each book. 

Ellen’s album was in the shape o'f a boot. On the 
cover May had sketched a tiny shoe with a mouse pok- 
ing his head out of a hole in the toe. In his mouth 
was a card bearing this request, “Please give me 
your autograph.” These words were addressed to an- 
other mouse that had upset a bottle of ink and was 
trailing his tail in black fluid and making curious 
hieroglyphics. Here is the verse Aunt Mary wrote 
on the first page : 

Your little feet, where’er they go, 

Will write a tale of joy or woe; 

And may they never lead you where 
To leave your name yOu would not care ; 


14 


210 


. Gems Without Polish. 


And may their patter ever be ^ 

A sign of your life’s gayety. 

Lizzie’s album was an oak leaf. She had pasted two 
tiny pressed oak leaves on the cover. Aunt Mary 
wrote tlie following for this album : 

Be like the noble oak, dear friend ; 

An influence broad to others lend, 

As casts this tree its shade. 

0, like the oak, be strong and firm, 

And of the wind and raging storm 
0 never be afraid. 

May’s album was in the shape of a heart. Aunt 
Mary wrote these lines for her, and not Browning nor 
Tennyson could have suited May better : 

Keep your heart sunny and light. 

Dearest May. 

Let God’s love be written there 
Every day. 

Gay and happy will you be 
All the while, 

And your face will then reflect 
Your heart’s smile. 

Daisy’s album was made to represent a daisy. The 
center was of gilt paper ; circling from this was a row 
of white petals, which served as the pages of the book. 
There were six sets, four leaves to a set. ‘The album 
could be hung up by a green ribbon,. which resembled 
the stem of the daisy. May wrote the verse for this 
book : 

May beautiful thoughts spring from your heart 
Tliick as daisies in the field ; 

The greatest joy and wealth of love 
May all these sweet thoughts yield. 


A Rainy Day. 


211 


These thoughts will pleasant words inspire; 

These words, kind deeds in turn, 

To cheer the cheerless lives of those 
Who for some kindness yearn. 

Johnnie’s album was in the form of a cow-bell. lie 
was apt to be somewhat tardy in driving his cows to 
pasture ; and Aunt Mary had designed this book as a 
gentle reminder of his fault. On the cover was a 
picture of the old Liberty Bell. Aunt Mary composed 
the following for the first page of this book : 

Dear Johnnie, when you chance to look 
Upon the pages of this book 
Think nothing that you would not care 
To say of friends whose names are here ; 

Say naught of them but what you would 
They’d say of you — reveal the good 
And hide the faults of all, and then 
You’ll surely never lose a friend. 

Ellen made Chester’s album in the shape of a fish. 
A narrow white ribbon which represented a fish-line 
fastened the leaves together. On its cover was a pict- 
ure of a boy fishing. Below were these words, ^‘The 
■fish I didn’t catch.” Chester appreciated the joke. 
Aunt Mary’s dedicatory poem was composed with a 
vivid sense of the degrading surroundings of Ches- 
ter’s city home : 

Just strive to be a man, my boy, 

Be noble, lirrn, and true ; 

For there’s a place for you in life, 

A work for you to do. 

0 be the man to fill that place. 

The man to do tliat work. 

In every thing just do your best; 

No duty ever shirk. 


212 


Gems Without Polish. 


Bessie's album was the pattern of a star witli a gilt 
cover. She wanted May to write her poem : 

0, little Bess, you surely are 
To all of us a guiding star. 

We love to watch your face so bright, 

It cheers us with its genial light. 

As Bess swung her album bv the ribbon that fast- 
ened its leaves, she remarked, “ I dess Dod holds all 
the stars by a string the way I liold this; and that’s 
what makes ’em twinkle.” 

Bee’s album was in the shape of a tulip. The out- 
side cover was of red paper. The little miss told May 
to “ write her a poem all difEerent from the others.” 
Here it is : 

B good, dear B, B kind and true, 

B loving, patient, gentle too. 

B natural where’er you B — 

Just B yourself, B always B. 

All were now busy writing in one another’s al- 
bums. Many wrote Bible verses. Bee put down 
the first one that came into her mind. Her signa- 
ture appeared thus in Ellen’s album: “‘Thou shalt 
not steal.’ Miss Beatrice Lovell.” The boys used 
their assumed royal names. Bee proposed that 
Aunt Mary sign her name Mrs. Adams, “ just for 
practice.” 

A soap-bubble party was next on the programme, 
after which came a candy-pull. Then the games and 
books were brought out. These, together with sing- 
ing and conversation, took up the whole afternoon. 
In the evening Mr. Lovell built a fire in the open 
fire-place. 


A Eainy Day. 


213 


Let ns play we are grandfathers and grandmoth- 
ers telling stories,” proposed Johnnie. 

‘^But grandma always pops corn and toasts apples 
when she tells stories,” said Bee. “ Let us do so 

tOOi” 

They did. The apples were suspended by strings 
from the crane and roasted over the flames. Johnnie 
and Chester took turns in popping the corn. 

It ’ooks as if the kernels were putting their night- 
dwesses on to go to bed,” said Bess. 

“ Looks as if they were in their ball-dresses dancing 
round in that popper,” remarked Ellen. 

They seem like homely old kernels turning into 
beautiful fairies,” exclaimed May. 

They look like something good to eat,” cried 
Chester, “ and I want some.” 

As the group were eating their saucers of corn Bee 
went from one to another, shaking the salter over 
each dish. She informed those who received more 
than their share of seasoning, that “the salt had lost 
its savor.” 

Stories were told, jokes cracked, and riddles told 
and guessed by the young people as they ate their 
corn and apples, and watched the fire, which was es- 
pecially fascinating to the city guests. The red flames 
twined like ribbons around the black logs, and the 
pointed blue flames flickered in all their usual beauty. 
Bess wanted Mother Goose stories. She said that 
this noted woman was the wife of Santa Claus. Bee 
wanted ’live stories, which meant true ones. She 
stated that she intended to write some new Bible 
stories sometime, for she was tired of the old ones. 
May wanted fairy stories. So Aunt Mary read the 


214 Gems Without Polish. 

following poem, wliicli she had composed a few weeks 
previous : 

THE FAIRIES. 

They sprinkle the sky with stars each night, 

Then slide to the earth on the moonbeams bright ; 

Tlie clouds across the heavens they stretch, 

The sunsets paint, and the shadows etch. 

They dimple the seas with laughing showers ; 

They fashion the grasses, and open the flowers; 

The pinks they perfume, and the buttercups gild. 

And small cone-towers on the spruces build. 

They teach the robin its song so sweet. 

And the honey of flowers these fairies eat. 

The dewdrops from mossy cups they quaff. 

And joke with the brook till they make it laugh. 

They ripen the berries, and flavor the fruits. 

And give to the lady-bugs crimson suits. 

They fringe the mosses in woodland dells ; 

Tiiey polish the pebbles, and scallop the shells. ' . 

In pink shell-boats o’er the sea they glide, 

Or o’er land on the backs of butterflies ride. 

They grate the sand for the beaches white, 

And at times the quarrelsome fairies will fight. 

— After they’ve sipped from the grape its wine. 

Then tlrey sharpen the needles upon the pine 
And give to the innocent rose its brier, 

The sting of the bee, and burden with fire 

The poor little fireflies. I wish as they fought 
In the cobweb lines they’d all get caught. 

For at a real fairy I’d like to peep, 

Though far from all mortals these elfins keep. 

In winter these fairies the icicles form. 

And wing the snowflakes for every storm ; 

" The birds to the sunny South they chase ; 

On the window-panes fair scenes they trace. 



A Eainy Day. 


215 


They ice the ponds, and form crystal bowers, 

And turn summer’s blooms to frosty flowers, 

With beautiful coatings the trees they encase. 

And a spotless charm on all things they place. 

What dear little things the fairies are !” exclaimed 
May, as Aunt Mary finished. 

“ But I thought Miss Lovell wanted us to think 
how wise God is to make the flowers and birds,” re- 
marked Ellen. “ She never said any thing about the 
fairies then.” 

O, this is just poetry,” answered May. “Of 
course, tliere are no fairies ; but isn’t it sweet to im- 
agine that the fairies blow the buds open, and take 
the lilac leaves for cradles, and are rocked to sleep 
every night by the wind ? ” 

“ Yes, it is beautiful ; but after this I shall always 
think that the fairies made all the pretty things in the 
field, and forget all about God.” 

Aunt Mary looked thoughtful ; she had learned a 
lesson. 


216 


Gems Without Polish. 


CHAPTER XIY. 

A COUNTRY SABBATH. 

It was Sunday morning. The young people at 
tlie Lovell farm were sitting on the piazza making 
plans for the day. Addie, Percy, and Belle, who 
were on their way to church, soon joined the group. 

“ I is doing to Sunny^school,’^ said Belle. 

“ So am said Bess. “ I am in the httlest class.” 

“ Den I’ll be in the A, B, C class too. What ’oo 
doing to do at Sunny-school ? ” 

“ Sing, and det cards, and do to s’eep when the man 
pways.” 

“Xo, no!” cried May, “People just close their 
eyes while they pray, so that they will forget every 
thing but their prayers. They can best talk with God 
in his own house — I can, I know.” 

“ We don’t have any Sunday at our house,” said 
Chester ; “ but we will after I go home.” 

“ It is Sunday all day long at our house,” remarked 
Bee, “ but they only have half of a Sunday at Mrs. 
Burns’s. She cooks all Sunday forenoon, and reads 
her Bible in the afternoon. Kate Burns broke Sun- 
day into three pieces one time ; she sewed patch- work, 
and ironed a whole hour, and told a lie. The lie was 
a Monday sin as well as a Sunday sin. O, I s’pose 
the city children will behave very underproper in 
church to-day.” 


A Country Sabbath. 217 

Bee drew a long breath and looked searcliingly at 
her guests. 

“ You needn’t say any thing,” cried Johnnie. “ The 
first time you went to meeting you kept running up 
and down the pew, and wanted to run into the aisle. 
Papa had to put his foot up to keep you in. You 
got down on your hands and knees, and crept under 
his foot and ran into the aisle.” 

“ Well, Johnnie Lovell, ma said that when you went 
to church for the first time she had to hold her hand 
over your mouth, most all the time to keep you from 
talking out loud ; and when you saw the minister in 
the pulpit you cried out : ‘ What are you up there 
for ? ’ ” 

‘‘ Let me tell you what I did when I was a little 
girl,” said May. “ I wrote a letter to Jesus and put it 
into the contribution-hox. I thought that he got it, 
too.” 

‘‘I put some candy in the ’bution-box too,” cried 
Bess, “ ’cause Mr. King always tells Estelle and me 
he hasn’t any candy, and I wanted him to have some 
of mine ; but the sextoner’s ’ittle boy dot it all.” 

“And one time I put my wallet, money and all, 
into the box,” said Johnnie, “ but I got my wallet 
back.” 

Aunt Mary, Lutie, and Will Moorhouse now ap- 
peared ; and all set out for the church, which was half 
a mile distant. The walk down the shady road was de- 
lightful. The birds were singing on every side. The 
church-bell added its music to their songs. The wild 
flowers were nodding in the gentle breeze. The but- 
terflies were flitting from one side of the road to the 
other in the beautiful sunshine. The boys and girls 


218 


Gems Without Polish. 


were talking of the lovely things around, and of the 
heavenly Father who made them. There was no 
mention of trifling affairs ; Aunt Mary did not allow 
that. 

“ What a fine praise-meeting the birds are hav- 
ing ! ” observed Aunt Mary. “ It commenced as 
soon as they awoke, and it will last all day. I wish 
that every body would take part in our praise-meet- 
ings just as all the birds do in theirs.” 

What are the birdies singing ’bout ? ” asked 
Belle. 

“ I s’pose they sing bird hymns,” answered Bee. 
‘‘ Guess they thank God for their feathers and nests 
and little birdies. Every thing is so lovely this morn- 
ing it makes me think of heaven.” 

‘‘ Where is heaven ? ” asked Belle. “ Mamina is 
there.” 

’Tisn’t put down in Johnnie’s geography,” an- 
swered Bess. 

Heaven is where God is,” answered Aunt Mary. 
‘‘And God is every-where except in the sinner’s 
heart, as the little girl said. We can have heaven in 
our hearts all of the time if God is there. The heaven 
to which Belle’s mamma has gone is a beautiful city 
where Christians live after they die.” 

“ I wish heaven was the country instead of the 
city,” remarked Chester. 

“ So do I,” said Addie. “ I had rather be with 
country people than with city people. I know ’most 
all the people in Brownville already, and I know 
hardly any one in the citj^ — not even if they live 
next-door. Some of them are so bad I do not want 
to know them.” 


A Country Sabbath. 


219 


“ But we shall want to know every hodj in heaven,” 
said May ; “ for every one there will have one Father 
and be one family. All our neighbors there will be 
good. We wont have to lock our doors at night, for 
there will be no robbers.” 

“ Then there wont be any police or lock-ups,” cried 
Daisy. But I wish heaven was a country place ; 
there are so many people in a city, and I get tired of 
people.” 

‘‘ But heaven is a beautiful city,” said Aunt Mary. 
“ Its houses are mansions, its streets are golden. You 
will never see in heaven the disagreeable things that 
you see in the cities of this world. There are no dark 
courts and alleys there, no dram-shops, no drunkards, 
no cripples, no sad faces on the street, no slow step, 
no bitter words, no sorrow or pain of any kind. The 
good of all ages will be gathered into this blissful 
place. Yes, I think that tliere will be some ‘ country ’ 
in heaven, for we read of the tree of life and of the 
river clear as crystal, and we sing of the sweet fields 
of Eden.” 

“ I’ll go to the country part of heaven,” cried Ches- 
ter. “ I guess the city part is for folks that are kind 
of good, and the country part for folks that are very 
good.” 

All walked very slowly. The smaller children, de- 
lighted with the theme, stayed close to Aunt Mary. 
This was just the time and place for so pleasant a 
conversation. 

“ Where did you find out about heaven ? ” asked 
Johnnie. 

“ In God’s book,” answered Aunt Mary. ‘‘ The 
Bible begins and ends with heaven, yet tells us very 


220 


Gems Without Polish. 


little iibont heaven, but a great deal about the waj to 
get ready for it.” 

“ 1 wonder if people have as good a time getting 
ready for heaven as I did getting ready for the coun- 
try,” observed Addie. 

I know they do,” answered Lutie ; ‘‘ and the peo- 
ple in heaven will be more pleased to see you there 
than we were to see you here ; and you know how very 
gkd we were to have you come. You said that the 
country was more beautiful than you thought it would 
be, and I think the same will be true of heaven.” 

‘‘ 1 hopes all the Powers of heaven will be butter- 
cups and daisies,” said Belle, whose hands were filled 
with these blossoms. “ ’Ess I does, ’cause ’oo can 
pick ’em ’thout askin’, and ’oo can’t pick the other 
kind ’oo sees in Boston. But I s’an’t go to heaven 
’less there’s playthings there.” 

‘‘ P’r'aps there’ll be gold playthings and all kinds o’ 
new ones ! ” exclaimed Bess. 

All the little boys and girls will have every thing 
they want in heaven,” said Aunt Alary. “ Tliis one 
thing we are sure of ; and I am sure that you little 
boys and girls can run and play on the golden 
streets.” 

“ I wish they would be country roads like this,” 
said Addie, “ with buttercups growing on both sides 
— they are good enough for me — streets are so noisy, 
but country roads are so easy to ride over. And these 
trees make the road so shady.” 

‘‘This is the most quiet and beautiful morning I 
ever saw,’’ exclaimed Daisy, enthusiastically. “ I 
hope it will be Sunday all the time in heaven.” 

“ Kow, I really think it will,” said Lutie ; “ for 


A Country Sabbath. 


221 


Sunday is a day of rest and heaven is rest. Then I 
have always tliought that people spend a good part 
of their time in heaven in praising God, and that is 
all that Christians should do on Sunday, I think.” 

What for does people not work Sundays ?” asked 
Belle. 

“ Because God wants us to rest Sunday, just as he 
rested after he made the world,” answered Will. 

“ I should think he would have been tired enough 
to rest after he had made every thing,” remarked 
Percy, innocently. 

“ I don't see what God wanted to make a heaven 
for,” philosophized Johnnie ; “ this world is good 
enough for me. My, isn’t it lovely ! ” 

“ But some people have so much pain and sorrow 
that they can’t enjoy the pleasant things of this 
world,” said Aunt Mary; “so their heavenly Father 
prepares for them a world where there is no pain 
or sorrow. Wicked people cannot enjoy this beauti- 
ful world very much ; neither can they enjoy heaven 
unless they leave their sins before they get there.” 

“ Is this pretty world made up out of what is left 
over from heaven ? ” asked Percy. 

“ I wish the Bible didn’t say that every one in 
heaven is going to be little children,” said Bee. “ I 
had rather be a woman — wish I was one now.” 

“ That passage, ‘ Of such is the kingdom of heaven,’ 
means that every body in heaven, both young and 
old, will be happy like little children, and not little 
children themselves,” said Aunt Mary. “ At least, so 
I think.” 

“ How do folks get to heaven ? ” asked Chester, 
in a business-like way. 


222 


Gems Without PoLisnr 


“ I know, ’cause I recited it in Sunny-scliool one 
time,” answered Will. “Mrs. Chase — she’s my 
teacher — told me all ’bout it. There is good people 
in this world and bad people. The Lord looks after 
the good and Satan looks after the bad. But it isn’t 
fair to have folks mixed up so much after they die 
the way they do here. It costs the good people too 
much to have the wicked ones round ; they have to 
buy lock-ups and jails and hire police. Well, the 
Lord and Satan try to get people on their side, way 
we fellows do when we play ball. But neither of ’em 
can get a single person on his side till that person 
says he will go, any more than I can take a fellow 
on my side in the game until he says he will come. 
As soon as the Lord has his men on his side he takes 
them to his head-quarters — that’s heaven — to get them 
out of the way of Satan.” 

“ Doesn’t Satan ever trouble people after they get 
on the Lord’s side ? ” asked Chester. 

“ O yes,” answered Aunt Mary; “ just as some of 
the boys in the base-ball game try to get players on 
their side after they have placed themselves on the 
other side. Sometimes Satan succeeds.” 

“ A btise-ball captain always fights for the boys on 
his side,” observed Will. “ I should think the Lord 
would do the same.” 

“ lie does when they ask him to ; but sometimes 
^people are determined to do their own fighting all 
alone ; then they are always beaten. But if they men- 
tion Christ’s name Satan will get out of the way at 
once, for he fears Christ more than any body else.” 

“ Why does he ? asked Addie. 

“ I know,” cried Bee. “ Mamma read me all about 


A CouNTEY Sabbath. 


223 


it. Satan wanted Jesus on liis side, and the Lord 
spent forty days and forty nights praying, and he did 
not eat any thing for the whole time. And he was 
so hungry ! Satan said. If you are God’s Son you 
can do any thing, so turn these rocks into bread.” 

‘‘ Did he ? ” asked Percy, much interested. 

‘‘ No. He could have done it, but he would not 
do a single thing that Satan told him to. Then Sa- 
tan took him up on a tall meeting-house — it was the 
temple — and said; ‘Now tumble yourself down, be- 
cause the Bible says that God will send the angels 
to pick you up and you wont get hurt.’ Satan said 
Bible verses so the Lord would think he was a pretty 
good fellow. Then Satan took Jesus up on a high 
mountain, and showed him lots of lovely houses and 
cities. I don’t know whether he showed Boston to 
Jesus or not, but every thing that was shown belonged 
to Satan ; and, do you know, Satan promised him 
every thing if he would worship him and be on his 
side?” 

“ Oh ! Did he ? ” cried Chester. 

“ No, he did not. Of course he wanted the houses, 
for he never had a home, but he said, ‘ Get behind 
me, Satan,’ and the devil ran away; then angels came 
from heaven to be with Jesus. That is why Satan 
fears the Lord. The whole thing was called ‘ the 
temptation.’ ” 

“ I see now why Satan is afraid when you mention 
tlie Lord’s name,” cried Chester. “ This makes me 
think of a tight between two boys in our alley last win- 
ter. The fellows were always wondering which was 
the best fighter, Sam Ti’avers or Billy Ayer, but when 
they got to fighting Billy beat Sam, and Sam has 


224 


Gems Without Polish. 


been afraid of liim ever since. Sam used to plague 
us newsboys fearfully, but we didn’t want to be iight- 
ing all the time ; it hurts our trade ; then the police 
might happen around. So we all agreed to get on 
the right side of Billy, and let him do oiir fighting. 
Now when Sam troubles us we just mention Billy’s 
name, and he sneaks ofip without a word. Billy is 
just the boy for us little fellows who haven’t any big 
brother to take our part.” 

“Jesus is an Elder Brother to us at all times,” said 
Aunt Mary. “ He will always take our part, not by 
fighting as the boys do, but in his own wise, gentle 
way.” 

“ O, that’s the meeting-house!” cried Will, as the 
party neared the little wdiite church. 

“ What’s the meetin’-house ? ” asked Belle. 

“It’s what folks call a church in the city,” an- 
swered Bee. “ I know — but it doesn’t say what it is 
in my catechism. Bess said one time the meeting- 
house was the minister’s house ; but the parsonage is 
the minister’s house, and the church is the Lord’s 
house.” 

The church was well filled. Nearly all of the 
country-weekers were there. Many of the Brown- 
ville people who were not in the habit of attending 
divine worship had come to get a glimpse of the city 
guests. 

Several of the children from Boston, having never 
been to church before, were not as orderly as they 
might have been. Ira sat in the pew for at least five 
minutes before removing his hat. Fred Stanwood 
balanced the hj^mn-book on his head. Belle pointed 
continually to the fiowers on the ladies’ bonnets, and 


A CouNTEY Sabbath. 


225 


Minnie George kept passing her handkerchief to 
Estelle and asking her to smell the cologne with 
which it was scented. 

Mr. King preached his usual five-minutes’ sermon 
to the children. Then came a grand old hymn, in 
which the conn try-weekers joined. Mr. King ofiered 
a simple, earnest prayer. He asked God’s special 
blessing upon the visitors in the church, and upon 
the dear ones they had left at home. 

Then came the sermon, from that text of all texts, 
‘‘ God so loved the world, that he gave his only be- 
gotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should 
not perish, but have everlasting life.” He followed 
the example of the divine who said that he took his 
best clothes when he preached to the rich and his 
best sermons when he preached to the poor. He 
waxed so eloquent while offering God’s love and for- 
giveness to these hungry souls that the Brownville 
people wished there might be coun try-weekers in 
their audience every Sunday. 

Little blind Laura had never been to church before, 
and much she enjoyed the songs, the prayer, and the 
sermons. 

Mrs. Sturgis had not listened to a sermon before 
for years. The old truths presented brought back 
tender memories of her childhood. As she gazed 
through the open window at the sloping fields and 
the forest-capped hills, she imagined herself in her fa- 
ther’s pew in another country church, listening to 
one whose teachings she had spurned in thoughtless 
youth. She did some honest thinking that day. 

The entire service was most impressive. Its in- 
fluence was such as would be felt by young and old 
15 


226 Gems Without Polish. 

for many years. There were, however, a few dis- 
turbances. 

When Mr. King asked in the midst of his sermon, 
‘‘Who is iny neighbor?” Belle answered, “I is.” 

Again, when he said that children should love their 
mothers, Jimmie cried out, “ I love my daddy too.” 

As the contribution -box was passing, Percy put in 
his hand to take some of the money, but Addie pre- 
vented him from doing so. 

Abraham Lincoln asked Estelle why her father did 
not make a bow before he spoke his piece. She 
whispered back, “’Tisn’t pl’ite for you to whisper in 
any body’s house, ’specially the Lord’s.” 

Lizzie Kellett was so afraid that the sun which was 
shining upon her new hat would fade its pink roses 
that she took it off, and placed it on the seat behind 
her. 

When the congregation sang “ Beulah Land,” Percy 
asked Addie if that was a country place. 

Sabbath - school followed the preaching -service. 
Most of the country- weekers stayed, and were placed 
in the various classes. 

The primary department was in one corner of the 
vestry parted off by portieres^ which were drawn apart 
during the opening and closing exercises of the 
school. Aunt Mary had fitted up this corner at a 
slight expense. She had tacked up manilla paper to 
use as a blackboard and for map drawing. A picture 
or two, and sprays of pressed ferns and leaves, adorned 
the walls. 

Having asked Daisy to assist in this class, she now 
told her to call the roll. Each child responded to its 
name by repeating a passage of Scripture, many of 


A CouNTEY Sabbath. 227 

which were misquoted. Bee’s name was the first 
called. 

She repeated, ‘‘Many are the afilictions of the 
righteous, but the Lord delivereth him out of them 
all.” 

“ Harry Bradley,” continued Daisy. 

Willie Chase answered, “ He's got a hole in his 
elbow, and his mother said he’d have to wear a tier to 
church to cover up his ragged sleeve. He said he 
would rather stay at home than wear a tier.” 

“Estelle King,” read Daisy. 

“ God is love,” came the answer. 

“ Bessie Lovell.” 

“ The Lord is my shepherd ; I shall not want any 
more,” responded Bess. 

Some of the farmers’ wives had made it a practice 
to teach their little visitors a Bible verse each day. 
Therefore, they could now repeat Scripture as well as 
the country children. 

Ira, however, got Mother Goose and Scripture 
somewhat confused, and repeated : 

“ What are little girls made of? 

Sugar and spice, 

And all things nice — ” 

Here Bee pulled him down on the seat. 

Daisy passed around the mite-box, and many of the 
children dropped their first penny into the Lord’s 
treasury. 

Every little head was bowed while Aunt Mary 
offered a simple, child-like prayer, after which the 
children prayed, “ Dear God, give me a clean heart, 
for Jesus’ sake. Amen.” 


228 


Gems Without Polish. 


The Golden Rule and Ten Commandments were 
then repeated in concert ; also the Golden Texts of 
the last quarter. 

This was the memory verse for the day : “ When 
my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord 
will take me up.” 

After explaining the passage, Aunt Mary asked, 
“Who will take care of you when your father and 
mother die ? ’’ 

“ Your grandfather,” answered Bess. 

“ May be so ; but God will put it into his heart to 
care for you.” 

Tlie lesson for the day was taught by objects; also 
by pictures either pinned to or sketched upon the 
blackboard. 

Daisy was as much interested in all that was said 
as were the children ; in fact. Aunt Mary had invited 
her into this class with the purpose of teaching her 
certain things. As the young girl looked into the 
happy faces of the children, and listened to the beau- 
tiful words and sweet songs they were taught, how 
her heart went out to her little brothers and sisters 
in her wretched home, where the name of God was 
seldom spoken except in cursing ; where Sunday 
was no different from other days, except her father 
was then the more troublesome, and the children the 
more quarrelsome. She determined there should be 
a change in that home. She would make the old 
room attractive at least one day in seven. She 
would tell Myra and Josie and Elmer the Bible 
stories she had just learned from Aunt Mary. 

After Sunday-school had closed a little while was 
passed in conversation. Many of the Brownville 


A Country Sabbath. 


229 


people onl y met on the Sabbath. The conn try- weekers 
were overwhelmed with attentions, and invited here 
and there to spend tlie day during the coming week. 
Some special attraction — such as a rare plant or a 
brood of fine ducks — was mentioned in connection 
with each invitation. 

Addie, Laura, and Blanche Howe were the heroines 
of the day. Each was invited out to dinner ; Percy 
and Belle also. 

Mrs. Bold met a lady whom she had known when 
a girl. This discovery caused great commotion among 
the simple farm folks; and was much talked about 
then and afterward. 

Harold was passed from one to another and feasted 
with the usual supply of Sunday peppermints. 

Ira remarked that he wished there were six Sun- 
days in the week and one of the ‘‘ other kind of days.” 

Mrs. Rankin, who had never before attended serv- 
ice in the little church, had come to-day to see the 
country-weekers. As she handed Mr. King a live- 
dollar bill toward the new organ, she said, “ I shall 
attend your services whenever I can in the future ; I 
never knew before how much one can enjoy worship 
where there is so little style and ceremony.” 

The chief attraction' of the afternoon was the chil- 
dren’s meeting. Aunt Mary had an unusually inter- 
esting programme. 

The little guests were deeply impressed by her 
teachings, and by the prayers and testimonies of the 
children. Some of the lessons then learned will never 
be forgotten. Only God can estimate the richness of 
the fruitage of that seed-sowing. 

Aunt Mary always gave a tenth of her income to 


230 


Gems Without Polish. 


the Lord. With a portion of this tithe she liad 
bought a small cheap Testament for each of the chil- 
dren from Boston. As she had each child write his 
name in his book, she said, “Every person who has 
his name written in God’s Bible should also see that 
it is written in God’s book of life.” It is wonderful 
how the mere setting apart of a stated portion of 
one’s income for benelicences multiplies the wealth of 
one’s Christian life. 


Daisy Finds a New Home. 


231 


CHAPTEE XY. 

DAISY FINDS A NEW HOME. 

Monday afternoon Mrs. Lovell asked one of the 
children to run over to Mrs. Burnham’s, who lived 
across the road, to borrow some jeast. Daisy offered 
to go, as she had taken quite a fancy to this woman 
at the reception. 

“Now what good angel sent you here?” asked 
Mrs. Burnham, as Daisy entered her home. “ Grlad 
you came. I have something to say to you, my dear ; 
sit down.” 

“ Mrs. Lovell. Is not she a good angel ? She wants 
some yeast — to ‘ rise ’ with — ha-ha ! That is, if you 
can spare a little.” 

“ Certainly, but sit down a minute. Just see this 
dining-room all in a clutter, but don’t look at it. 
Well, how do you like the country ? ” 

Ever so much.” 

“ How would you like to be a country girl your- 
self?” 

“ That would be too good to even think of. The 
country girls are so nice and polite. Why, Jeanie 
Murray lives in the largest house in Brown ville — so 
May says — but she asked me to come and see her, 
poor as I am. I find that I am growing to be like the 
country girls. When the country- week is up, I shall 
hardly know myself.” 

.“What, if your country- week should never end? 


232 


Gems Without Polish. 


Do you think you would be contented to always live 
in the country ? ” 

“ Indeed I would — but I could never leave home, 
mother and the babies need me so much.” 

“ But supposing some one should want to adopt 
you. Do you think your parents would consent ? ” 

I can’t say ; but I am not one of the kind that 
people adopt. And who would do my work, if I 
wasn’t at home? I had to leave school four years 
ago to help mother.” 

“Chester and the other children could do your 
work — and, my dear, I have made up my mind to 
adopt you.” 

For a few moments Daisy could not speak. Tears 
came to her eyes. At last she exclaimed, “ Adopt 
me ! You are so good ! But — mother ! ” 

“ She will doubtless be glad to have you away 
from the evils of the city. Then you could visit her 
as often as you wish.” 

“You are so kind ! But the work at home ! ” 

“ FTever mind that. If you are gone there will be 
one less to feed.” 

Daisy’s face brightened. “ I never thought of 
that,” she said. “ Yes, yes, I think — I don’t know. 
Well, yes, I will stay with you if mother is willing.” 

Mrs. Burnham drew Daisy closer to her side, 
kissed her, and said very heartily, “ My dear little 
girl, I shall always love you a great deal, and you 
will try to love me a little, wont you ? even if I am 
a rough countrywoman.” 

“ I can’t help loving you already,” answered Daisy. 
“ And I can love mother too just the same.” 

“ Of course you can, and she and the babies shall 


Daisy Finds a Home. 


233 


come and visit you. Poor child ! Ho wonder you 
are dragged out, you have had so much care! I3ut 
you shall only do enough housework here to teach you 
how to be a good housekeeper and to keep you out of 
mischief.” 

I shall want to do all I can for you, to sliow that 
I appreciate your kindness,” answered Daisy. “ How 
happy I shall be with the birds and flowers, and with 
you and May Lovell to love me I Do you suppose 
mother will let me stay ? ” 

“ I think so. My husband is pleased with tlie idea 
of adopting you. We have been talking the matter 
over ever since the reception, and watching you very 
closely. He is fond of young people, and will be one 
of the best of fathers. We want you to take our 
name — and would you mind calling us father and 
mother ? ” 

“Ho, ma’am, I would like nothing better. Can I 
go to scliool here — mother ? ” 

“Yes, indeed. We have a good school. AYhen 
you have finished your studies here you may go to 
the high*school at the village. May will help you 
with your studies. She will be a sort of twin sister to 
you. Mr. Burnham and I may not be very genial 
company for a young person, but you can have all 
the young people come to see you that you care to 
invite.” 

“You are so thoughtful,” answered Daisy. “I 
shall try to learn much while I am here. 1 never 
had a chance to improve in the city, or any one to 
encourage me ; but I have learned a great deal from 
May. We have had fine times reading together; she 
has so many nice books.” 


Gems Without Polish. 


2U 


“ And you shall have as many nice books as May 
has, or any thing else you want. I feel sure that I 
can have you.” 

But even if you can, you don’t want me to leave 
May’s so soon ? ” 

“Certainly not. You may finish out your week 
with her, then this will be your home. Perhaps I 
can spare you, once in a while, to visit May. Come 
up stairs now. and choose your sleeping room. You 
see I feel certain of keeping you, and shall make 
plans for you at once.” 

The front chamber was first visited. 

“ This is my spare room,” said Mrs. Burnham. “ I 
always put company here ; but you can have it for 
your room if you wish. I shall always treat you 
as if you were company. How do you like this 
room ? ” 

“ It is very pretty. But you will still have com- 
pany after I come to live with you. I had better 
take another room.” 

“ There are not many girls who would refuse the 
best room in the house,” said Mrs. Burnham. “ It 
shows that you are not selfish. I bought this cham- 
ber-set with money I earned in the mill before I was 
married. Girls didn’t spend their money for foolish 
notions when I was young.” 

The two now passed into the next chamber. 

“ This is our room,” said Mrs. Burnham ; “ but I 
will move to another if you want it. I had as soon 
change ; and Mr. Burnham — he never cares where he 
sleeps. These are the pleasantest windows in the 
house. We always leave the curtains up, and the 
sun shines in and wakes us up.” . 


Daisy Finds a Is^ew Home. 


235 


“Yes, the view is fine,” answered Daisy, glancing 
from the eastern window. “But no; I would not 
take this room. I would not put you to so much 
trouble.” 

“Ho trouble at all. As long as you never had a 
room of your own before, you are now going to have 
the one that suits you best.” 

The next room that was entered was not furnished. 
A delightful view could be obtained from the west- 
ern window. Mrs. Lovell’s home was in full sisrht. 
Daisy liked this chamber the best of any. She would 
enjoy fitting it up with the extra furniture with 
which the good woman told her the attic was 
filled. 

After Mrs. Burnham and Daisy had returned to 
the kitchen Mr. Burnham came in. 

“ Call him father at once ; ’twill please him so,” 
whispered the wife. 

Daisy rushed toward the sturdy farmer, and held 
out her hand, saying, “ Good-afternoon, father.” 

In true farmer fashion Mr. Burnham caught her in 
his arms as if she were a babe, gave her the heartiest 
kiss she had ever received, then sat down and 
held her for a long time while they talked matters 
over. 

As Daisy returned to Mrs. Lovell’s, she found all 
of the family except Mr. Lovell in the sitting- 
room. 

“ I have had the offer of a new home and a new 
mother,” she cried. “I expect to always live in 
Brown ville.” 

“ Why ! what ! ” exclaimed two or three voices at 
once. 


236 


Gems Without Polish. 


‘‘Yes; Mrs. Burnham is going to adopt me if 
motlier is willing. I have inj room all picked 
out.” 

“ Hi-diddle-diddle ! ” shouted Johnnie. 

“ But, sis, I shall miss you so,” put in Chester. 

“It’s just like Mrs. Burnham; she is such a dear 
old soul,” remarked Aunt Mary. 

“ I think they might adopt Chester instead of you,” 
observed Bee. 

“ If Dod had wanted ’oo to be Auntie Burnham’s 
’ittle dirl, why didn’t he send ’oo to her when ’oo was 
a baby ? ” asked Bess. 

Mrs. Lovell said nothing. May put her arms around 
her friend and said very quietly, “ O Daisy, we shall 
have such nice times! ” 

Daisy now wrote to her mother. This was the first 
letter she had ever written, except when playing post- 
office. 

“Brownville, Mass., July 25, 1887. 

“ Dear Mother — Chester and I arrived here safely 
the same forenoon we left Boston. I should have 
written before, but was too busy to do so. We stop 
with a family by the name of Lovell. There are four 
children — May, Johnnie, Bee, and Bess. I will tell 
you all about them when I see you ; also about Aunt 
Mary, for we have found a new aunt here. There 
was a reception for the country-weckers the day we 
came. We have been on a picnic and to church. 

“We have enough to eat all tlie time. Chester has 
gained four pounds; I have gained two. We drink 
milk three times a day. I tried to milk a cow; I 
liked it, but she didn’t. 

“ There’s a lady here by the name of Mrs. Burn- 


Daisy Finds a New Home. 237 

ham who wishes to adopt me ; that is, if you and 
father are willing and you can spare me from the 
work. But if you want me to return home I shall 
certainly do so. Mr. and Mrs. Burnham live on a 
farm and have no children. They wish to adopt me 
legally and to giv^e me their name. They have always 
lived in Brownville, and are good Christian people, 
so Mrs. Lovell says. If I stay with them they will 
give me a good education and buy me every thing I 
need. Mrs. Burnham says she will require but little 
work of me. She will teach me how to sew, and I 
can do all of your sewing (quite a joke when you 
have so little; but Mrs. Lowell has promised me some 
of her children’s old clothes which 1 can make over 
for Myra and Josie). 

‘‘ Now, mother, I do not want to be selfish and only 
look at my own pleasure ; I will do just as you think 
best. Mr. Burnham will go to Boston and talk with 
you about adopting me if you wish. He and his wife 
want you to come and visit me if I stay here, and I 
can go home whenever I want to. 

‘‘ I have not had the headache at all since I have 
been here. Mrs. Burnham says I need to stay longer 
to bring the color into my cheeks. Please write as 
soon as you receive this. Tell the children we have 
lots of pretty things for them. Chester joins me in 
sending love to all. Good-bye. Daisy Dow.” 

Johnnie harnessed the horse and carried the letter 
to the village post-office. Daisy and May then went 
out on the piazza to be alone. They sat in the ham- 
mock, their arms around each other. Many plans 
they made for the future. 


238 


Gems Without Polish. 


Here is your fate,” cried Mr. Lovell, tossing a 
letter into Daisy’s lap the next morning. 

She read the letter aloud. It was poorly spelled 
and written : 

‘‘ Dear Daisy — I was surprised to get your letter. 
It came last night. I have been thinking about you 
ever since I read it, and have made up my mind to 
let you stay in the country. I dislike to give you 
away ; but, of course, the Burnhams will do better 
by you if they adopt you. I am willing for you to 
take their name ; but you will always be just Daisy 
Dow to me, my own precious girl. I will be your 
mother as much as ever, even if you have a new and 
better one. My house will always, be your home, 
humble as it is. If I have worked you too hard and 
been impatient with you at times, I have always loved 
you ; and you will never find one who will care for 
you as I do. 

“I have said nothing to your father about your 
leaving us ; he has not been in condition to listen to 
any thing. But, of course, it will make no difference 
to him where you are. 

“ Don’t worry about home. I can make the work 
lighter, and will give up that extra washing of Mrs. 
Blake’s I was to take. Chester and the others can 
help me more, and the babies have got used to taking 
care of themselves since you have been gone. We 
shall all miss you very much, but, of course, it will 
be for your good to stay ; and I am glad to have you 
away from this wicked alley. I am glad that you are 
going to have some schooling, for I know what it is 
not to have any. 


Daisy Finds a IS’ew Home. 


239 


Tell Mr. Burnham to call when he comes to Bos- 
ton. I wish yon could come with him. Tell him 
and his wife I thank them more than I can tell for 
their kindness to you. Good-bye. With mother’s 
love, Harriet Dow.” 

Daisy brushed tlie tears from her eyes as she fin- 
ished reading. There were several tear-marks on the 
page that revealed the sorrow tlie mother was too 
wise to mention. Daisy would never know of the 
struggle through which her mother had gone before 
she could write that letter. She would never know 
how hard it had been for the care-worn woman to 
give up her oldest child; the one that had blessed* 
her home before the father took to drink. But the 
young girl knew something of her mother’s cheerless 
life; and, pleased as she was to have a new home, 
there w^as a certain sadness in giving up the old one, 
where she w^as so much needed. 

Daisy and May carried the letter over to Mrs. 
Burnham’s. They found her in “ Daisy’s room.” 

‘‘Ah, it’s my girl!” she exclaimed. 

“Yes; mother says I can be yours; see here.” 
Daisy showed her letter, then read it aloud. 

“I knew she would let you stay,” cried Mrs. 
Burnham. “You will be liers as much as ever. 
I never expect to quite fill the place of your own 
mother. How let us fix up your room. Mr. Burnham 
will take up the carpet from the parlor-bedroom 
and beat it; then we will put it down here. We 
have a lot of extra furniture in the attic that you 
can have. But what shall we do for curtains ? O, 
those cheese-cloth curtains in the parlor-bedroom. 


240 


Gems Without Polish. 


I will put them up here. You will enjoy fixing up 
your room better than having one all furnished.” 

All worked very busily for the whole day, only 
stopping long enough to take a cold lunch at noon. 
Mrs. Lovell had sent over a few articles of furniture, 
also a wash-bowl and pitcher, and several pictures and 
ornaments. At five o’clock every thing was in the 
little room and in the proper place. 

‘‘ Now, Daisy, let me see you make this bed,” said 
Mrs. Burnham. 

“ But I — I really don’t know how to make a bed.” 

“ What ! A great girl sixteen years old not know 
how to make a bed ! Don’t you have beds in Bos- 
ton ? ” 

“ Not at our house. We sleep on straw ticks with- 
out any pillows ; we have a quilt over us in winter, 
but in summer we put it under us, the straw is so 
hard.” 

‘‘And to think I have lived so near to Boston all 
my life, and never done a thing to help people who 
live in such a way ! I might have adopted a child ten 
years ago. But I will make this bed, and you may 
watch me. First strip down your feather-bed and 
smooth out the straw-bed that is underneath, then 
shake up your feather bed so the feathers wont get 
all heaped together in one corner ; that makes the bed 
look hump-backed. This feather bed was one of my 
wedding-presents ; a good one too. I suppose Dr. 
Murray’s wife would sleep on a tick filled with thistles 
rather than on one filled with feathers. She thinks 
there’s too much animal heat, or something, to the 
feathers; but when I am tired I like to sink into the 
feathers.” 


Daisy Finds a INew Home. 


2il 

Mrs. Burnliam gave several vigorous shakes to the 
feather-bed, pulled it from one side to another, patted 
it very gently, smoothed it out, then exclaimed, quite 
out of breath, “ There is nobody in Brownville that 
can beat me in making a bed. How, Daisy, do you 
think you could stir up a feather-bed ? ” 

‘^1 tan,” cried Bess, jumping on to the bed, and roll- 
ing round in high glee. 

“ O, you naughty, naughty baby ! ” cried Mrs. Burn- 
ham, as she lifted the little rogue from her downy 
quarters and again stirred up the feather-bed. 

“ I see how jmu do it,” cried Daisy. “ You knead 
the bed as you do bread ; of course I know how to put 
the sheets on.” 

“ Don’t Jbe too sure. Look ; I tuck this sheet under 
the feather-bed as neatly as if it were the outside 
spread. You don’t want an edge sticking out here 
and there like a dog’s ear. Hotice there is a wider 
hem at the top of the sheet than at the bottom. How 
comes the next sheet ; of course you know you will 
turn down a foot of this at the top after the quilt and 
spread are on.” 

“ Yes’m,” answered Daisy, doing her best to keep 
out of the way of Mrs. Burnham, who was moving 
from one side of the bed to the other, in a most lively 
fashion. 

“ I made this quilt at school,” continued the busy 
woman, as she threw a pretty coverlet upon the bed. 
“We girls used to sew in recess. There’s a piece here 
of every girl’s dress in . the school — of the teacher’s 
gingham too. She gave us a piece for having good 
lessons — a queer reward of merit, but it was in a time 
when there weren’t so many picture-cards as there now 
16 


242 


Gems Without Polish. 


are. Some time I will tell you all about the quilting 
grandmother had for me. Now for the spread ; this 
is what neither of you ever saw, a knit spread ; mother 
knit it for me. It has been lying away for years as 
an heirloom, but it may as well be put to some use. 
The spread wont have to be tucked in as long as this 
is an old-fashioned bedstead. Please throw me the 
pillows. Bee.” 

But the young miss had gone behind the door, and 
divested the pillow of its case, which she had pulled 
over her head. She began to dance around the room 
like a little ghost. 

“ O Bee, how you have wrinkled that pillow-slip,” 
cried Mrs. Burnham, running after her. “ But as long 
as you are only in fun. I’ll not scold you ; yet if you 
ever do this again I may have to sew you up in the 
pillow-case, so that you cannot get out.” 

As the last touches were given- to the bed, Daisy 
remarked, with delight, ‘‘ It looks too neat and nice to 
sleep in.” 

“ You can always have it looking as well, if you have 
a mind to,” answered Mrs. Burnham. “ The way you 
tend your room will probably be the way you will 
keep your whole house when you have one.” 

“ How glad I am to have a room of my own ! At 
home there are only two rooms for ten of us. No one 
Avill be around to trouble my things, as they did at 
home. Then I can come up here and be all by myself. 
Why, I was never alone for an hour at a time in my 
life until I came to the country. Isn’t my room just 
splendid ! ” 

“ I confess it does look better than I expected,” 
said Mrs. Burnham. “The walls will need to be 


Daisy Finds a New Home. 213 

re-papered next spring, and you may pick out the 
paper.” 

‘‘ Get some all covered with daisies,” suggested Bee. 

But there are all sorts of colors here. Aunt Mary 
wouldn’t have that if this was lier room.” 

“ But it is not,” answered Mrs. Burnham. ‘‘ When 
she has a half-dozen rooms to furnish, instead of one, 
she may not be so particular about having every thing 
to match in each separate room. Nature mixes her 
colors ; she does not give us nothing but red flowers in 
one field and just pink ones in another. I have Hhe 
blues ’ in a blue room — one color is so monotonous ! 
But we have matched things as best we could.” 

“ Aunt Mary says there are people who give lessons 
in home decoration,” said May. “ Some hire a man 
to tell them how to arrange their furniture and orna- 
ments artistically. Of course this is very well, but I 
like to place my pictures and vases where they suit 
me best, especially if friends gave them to me.” 

‘‘ I am perfectly satisfied with my dear little room,” 
said Daisy. “ But here are Chester and Johnnie. O, 
Chester, did you bring me those flowers ? Some of 
Mrs. Lovell’s, I know.” 

Slie took the bouquet from her brother and laid it 
on the mantel. 

“You may have a flower-garden of your own next 
spring,” said Mrs. Burnham. “I never thought I 
could bother with flowers, but if I am to have 
young people around I must have things that they 
like.” 

“We will make our flower-gardens together,” cried 
May, “and plant different kinds of seed. You may 
pick all the flowers you want from my garden without 


244 Gems Without Polish. 

asking, and I know you will let me do the same with 
yonr flowers.” 

Certainly. See, boys, what a fine view from this 
window! Mother says the birds built in this apple- 
tree last spring, and of course they will come back 
again next year.” 

Here Johnnie passed Daisy a package. 

Opening it, she exclaimed, “He has printed me 
some cards on his little press; my new name too: 
Daisy Burnham. Does not that sound fine ? Here, 
Bess, pass them round. I want you all to keep one 
to remember this day by.” 

After the cards had been distributed and examined, 
Daisy remarked, “ How good every one is to me I 
Aunt Mary has promised to show me how to make a 
pretty lambrequin for the mantel, and I met Mrs, 
King this noon when I ran over to May’s, and she says 
she will give me some books to read in my room.” 

“ I wfill teach you how to sew,” said Mrs. Burn- 
ham. “ Then you can make some sheets and pillow- 
shams and slips, for you will need two or three sets. 
You must save one of your bureau drawers to keep 
them in.” 

“ I will make you a writing-desk out of a cigar-box,” 
said Chester, “and buy you all the paper you want, if 
you will write to me every week.” 

“ I’ll give ’oo myself to s’eep with ’oo after ’oo’s 
been to a party and has peppermints in ’ooi' pocket, 
and I’ll give ’oo my crib-screen to keep off the flies. 
There’s one biting me now. I’ll bite him back,” and 
with open month Bess ran after the offending fly. 

“ I will lend you my rose-bush,” said May. “ I 
would give it if Aunt Sadie had not given it to me.” 


Daisy Finds a New Home. 245 

“An’ I’ll lend ’oo my tooth-brush,” said Bess, inno- 
cently. 

“ May be Dr. Murray will give you a little case of 
medicine,” ventured Johnnie. 

“ I never expect to be sick again, now that 1 live in 
the country ; but how thoughtful every body is ! ” 

That evening Daisy and May were alone in the 
little room, very tired, yet very happy. Daisy was 
writing to her mother the following letter. The pen- 
manship was not beautiful, nor was its phraseology 
gushing, but it told of genuine love and good reso- 
lution : 

“ Dear Mother : Your letter at hand. We are 
all glad that I can stay. Have been fitting up my 
room all day. May and I are to sleep here to-night. 
Just think, mj^ room is papered ! Seems as if I could 
almost smell the roses on the wall. I have a carpet, 
too, and more furniture than you have in both your 
rooms. I am going to make lots of prettyjhings for 
my room. May says, ‘Let’s call it Cozy Corner, it is 
so pleasant.’ Tell Myra and Josie they can sle^p 
here when they come to see me. 

“ ‘ Sister May ’ is making a plan of the room, which 
I send. With love, Daisy. 

“ P. S. Mrs. Lovell told the story of a girl who put 
in the postscript when first writing to her mother 
after her marriage, ‘ You see, mother, I have changed 
my name.’ So have 1. Daisy Dow Burnham.” 

Daisy read her letter to May, then both spent some 
little time on the diagram of the room, which was to 
be sent to Mrs. Dow. We give a copy : 


246 


Gems Without Polish. 


N 



1. Window opposite May’s. 

11. Pitcher of 'wild flowers. 

2. Door into entry. 

12. Chair. 

3. Mantel and fire-place. 

13. Mat for my new kittie. 

4. “ Sunset window.” 

14. Pitcher of pine boughs. 

5. Wash-stand. 

1 5. Hour stand. 

6. Chair. 

16. Chair. 

L Bureau. 

17. Kocking-chair. 

8. Bed. 

18. Hassock (salt box covered). 

9. Arm-chair. 

19. Chair. 

10. Clothes-press. 

20. Round table. 


“Let’s Play We Are City People.” 247 


CHAPTEK XYL 

“LET’S PLAY WE ARE CITY PEOPLE.” 

“ 0, the blessed and wise little children, 

What sensible things they say : 

When they can’t have the things they ask for 
They take others, and say ‘ Let’s play 1 ’ ” 

Xo one was at home this briglit Wednesday fore- 
noon except Bee, Bess, and the boys. Lizzie Kel- 
lett, Fred Stanwood, and Will Moorhoiise soon came 
to play with them. 

“What kind of fun do you have in the city?” 
asked Johnnie. 

“Lots of kinds,” answered Fred; “only we can’t 
show you here, because this is not a city.” 

“ Let’s play we are city people, and that Brown- 
ville is a city,” cried Bee. 

“ But it don’t look like a city. Why, there are no 
sidewalks, and your houses are not numbered, and 
there aint any hand-organ men and monkeys to 
chase.” 

“Let’s number our houses,” proposed Bee. “I 
have a lot of red chalk.” 

“What is the good of having just one house num- 
bered ? ” asked Chester. 

“ May be other people will number their houses 
after we have set the style,” replied Bee. 

She brought out her crayon, and Chester was 
chosen to put some number on the front door. Lizzie 


24:8 Gems Without Polish. 

proposed that the number be 1, as this was the first 
house in Brown ville to be thus honored. Fred 
was in favor of 999 ; and, notwithstanding tlie fact 
that there were only two hundred houses in the 
whole town, this number was placed on the front 
door. The other children said that Chester’s 9’s 
looked like long-handled saucepans. He did bet- 
ter, liowever, on the barn, which he numbered 

1000, and on the corn house, which was number 

1001. 

Bee chalked her name on a shingle, which she 
nailed to the barn as a door-plate. 

“Let’s get up some sort of a hand-organ now,” 
suggested Johnnie. “There was a hand-organ man 
at our house, and wasn’t he a scholar, though ! He 
could talk French faster than Aunt Mary can.” 

“He was a Frenchman,” said Bess. “His hand- 
organ was a sink with a handle to it. AVhen he set 
his organ down it made music like a p’ano, and when 
he carried it round it kept still.” 

“I will be the organ-grinder,” cried Fred, “’cause 
I have seen more of, them than the rest of you. There 
was a man who wanted me to go with him one time, 
to pass the hat, but inarm wouldn’t let me.” 

“ I think it best to have a monkey to pass the hat,” 
hinted Chester. “Who will be the monkey ? ” 

“I, I, I,” shouted Will. 

“ ISTo, I’ll be the monkey ’cause I’m funnier than 
you,” cried Bee. “And my sailor suit is more mon- 
key-like than your mother-hubbard.” 

“ But I can bow better than you, and I will be the 
monkey,” returned Will. 

“No; you shall not,” shouted Bee, indignantly. 


“Let’s Play We Are City People.” 240 

Haven’t I got a pug nose that looks like a mon- 
key’s ? ” 

The dispute was settled by Johnnie, who “counted 
up.” Bee was the “ lucky one.” 

“ O, I’m a monkey ! I’m a monkey ! ” she shouted, 
swinging her little fez cap in a delighted manner. 

Fred tied a string round her waist, and said, “You 
must keep still now, ’cause monkeys can’t talk.” 

“ But if you jerk that string so and pull me round 
in such a rough way. I’ll turn back to a little girl and 
give you a piece of my mind.” 

Bee hopped around in a most comical manner, which 
fairly frightened Baby Bess. 

“ She’s never seen a monkey before,” said Johnnie. 

“ But I’s seen a monkey-wrench ; and Bee is making 
up faces at me, and mamma don’t ’low us to make up 
faces.” 

“ I forgot that,” said Bee. “ But I was just mak- 
ing up faces at myself, I’m so funny. But where is 
our hand-organ ? ” 

“Take Lizzie for a hand-organ,” laughed Fred, be- 
ginning to twist her long braid of hair to the tune of 
“ Yankee Doodle.” 

“ Let’s take the grindstone or the wash-wringer,” 
proposed Johnnie. 

The latter was brought and strapped to Fred’s 
back — a heavy and clumsy burden — but he made 
no complaint. Bee pinned two picture-cards to the 
wringer, that it might be as attractive as any hand- 
organ. 

All but the organ-grinder and his monkey pro- 
ceeded to the front yard and seated themselves on the 
piazza. 


250 


Gems Without Polish. 


Fred and Bee advanced slowly. Fred placed liis 
hand-organ on a rustic seat, turned the crank, and 
hummed ‘‘ Spring, spring, gentle spring.” 

“Why do hand-organs always play that tune?” 
asked Will. 

“Because they always come in the spring,” an- 
swered Chester. 

“ I don’t know what to do, to be a monkey,” con- 
fessed Bee, in a whining tone. 

“Just act natural,” advised Johnnie. 

Bee didn’t know whether to be angry with her 
brother or not ; she decided she wouldn’t. She walked 
back and forth as far as the end of the string would 
permit. She crept on her hands and knees. She 
took off her fez and made a comical little bow, which 
set all her curls to dancing in a lively fashion. 

“I have a singing monkey,” began Fred ; “one of 
the greatest curiosities ever discovered in the wilds 
of Massachusetts. 'No money can buy this monkey. 
Come, sing us a song.” 

Bee sang “ The little old log cabin in the lane,” 
to the accompaniment of the nameless tune that was 
squeaked by the wringer. 

“ That’s a fine monkey,” said the master, proudly. 
“ Now go and shake hands with the ladies and gen- 
tlemen. May be they will remember how hungry the 
poor old organ-grinder and his monkey are, and give 
us a bite of something.” 

Bee obeyed ; as she shook Johnnie’s hand she said, 
“ Didn’t I do splendid ? Now you must go and get 
just two plum cakes ; one for me and one for Fred. 
Mamma wont want the rest of you to eat them all 
up.” 


“Let’s Play We Are City People.” 251 


“ Let me be monkey now,” cried Lizzie, “ I am 
hungrier than you.” 

“ And it’s my turn to be grinder,” put in Chester. 

Fred and Bee persisted in keeping their positions. 
Johnnie brought a lunch for all from his mother’s 
pantry. After this was eaten the troop proceeded to 
the parsonage, because they felt sure of getting some 
pennies there. 

The twins were perched on tlie two fence-posts, 
grinning at each other. Estelle was swinging on the 
gate. 

“Well, well; is this a surprise party?” inquired 
Mr. King, appearing at the door. 

“ No, it’s a hand-organ man, and Bee is the mon- 
key,” answered Will. “ We are chasing on, so as to be 
like city people.” 

“We are going to play to you,” announced Fred, 
setting down his wringer and beginning to hum a 
psalm tune. 

“ Don’t folks always give pennies to the hand-organ 
man?” asked Johnnie. 

“Ko, they give ’em to his monkey,” cried Bee, 
passing her hat around. “I am going to give tlie 
money I get from the minister to the missionaries, 
’cause some of the heathen worship monkeys, auntie 
says. Ko — I guess I’ll only put one half of what I 
get into rny mite-box.” 

“ Monkeys don’t talk,” said Fred ; “ and you must 
bring all the money to me, ’cause I own you.” 

“ I’m going to be myself for five minutes and talk 
while I pass the cap.” 

“ What are the heathen ?” asked Lizzie. 

“ Folks that don’t have any cents, so I have to save 


252 


Gems Vv'^ithout Polish. 


lip mine for them,” answered Bee. ‘‘Aunt Mary 
knows as mucli about the heathen as if she was 
one.” 

“ Is she a heathen or a missionary ? ” asked Ches- 
ter. 

“ Neitlier ; but she’s a mission- and does lots 
of good,” answered Bee. 

“AVho are the missionaries?” asked Cliester. 

Another family of heathen,” replied Johnnie. 

“Another family of heathen!” exclaimed Lizzie. 

“Yes,” returned Bee. “Don’t you know wliat a 
family is ? A man and his wife and six small children. 
Now, Mr. King, didn’t 3^011 say one time that if it 
hadn’t been for Christ the very missionaries might 
belong to the great family of heathen ? ” 

“ But the word family, in the sense in wdiich I used 
it, meant a large class of people. AYhy did you think 
of giving your money to the missionaries ? ” 

“’Cause — ’cause I thought you would give us more 
pennies if I told you that; and I — 1 will give them 
half — ’twould be a lie if I didn’t.” 

There w^as a merry twinkle in Mr. King’s eye as 
he threw a handful of pennies toward the hand-orscan 
man. 

All the children scrambled for the money. Abra- 
ham Lincoln secured the most, and refused to give it 
to Bee because he said he Avas a little heathen nigger. 
A quarrel might have followed had not Mr. King 
been present. 

“ O, Mr. King,” said Bee, after a while, “I’m glad 
I’m not a real monkey ; it must be dreadful to be led 
’round b}’' a string all your life.” 

The procession next Avent to Mrs. Parker’s, because 


‘‘Let's Play We Are City People.” 


253 


this was the day slie usually made sugar-cookies— so 
Bee said — and of course she would treat them. 

Mr. Jennings was then visited in his potato patch, 
where he was at work. He found a few coppers in 
his pocket, which he offered to give the monkey if 
she could catch them as they were thrown, one at a 
time. She obtained three in this way, then showed 
her dexterity in climbing a tree. 

Mrs. Libby, a stranger, who had just moved into 
the neighborhood, was now called upon. This was 
her first acquaintance with Brownville people. She 
treated the children to doughnuts. 

The retinue returned home and disbanded. The 
collection amounted to fifteen cents, five of which 
were placed in Bee’s mite-box ; the remainder the 
children distributed among themselves. 

“ What else do you do for fun in the city ? ” asked 
Will. 

“We chase the men that sell oranges, and cry ‘Fif- 
teen sour oranges for a quarter,’ ” replied Chester. 
“It makes ’em mad, ’cause they say ‘Fifteen sweet 
oranges for a quartei*.’ Let’s play this with apples.” 

“But it is mean to make people mad and to lie 
about their oranges,” said Johnnie. 

Will thought so too. However, when Bee’s 
wheel-barrow was brought and filled with apples, 
and Fred was harnessed into it and driven up and 
down the road, these two country boys cried “fifteen 
sour apples for a quarter ” as lustily as any of the 
others. 

Johnnie next brought out a -number of old papers, 
mostly of a religious or agricultural character. The 
children played they were news boys and girls, and 


254 


Gems Without Polish. 


tramped down tlie road, crying, Journal^ Boston 
Journal — last copy. Globe here — all about the coun- 
try-week — latest edition. Advertiser^ Zior^s Herald^ 
American Agriculturist — only two cents.” 

Faces appeared at the doors and windows of every 
house passed. Five papers were sold. 

The duties of the mail-carrier were now explained 
and entered upon. Bee got a package of her Aunt 
Mary’s letters, a few of which were from Mr. Adams. 
These the children placed in their satchels — excuse 
me, their mail-bags — and left at several houses of tlie 
neighborhood. 

The boys soon brought together all the old hand- 
bills they could hud, and, each going in a different 
direction, placed them at the doors of all the houses 
that they passed. 

When the boys and girls were tired of running, 
they chalked on several shingles, “ Keep off the 
grass ; ” these they placed here and there over Mr. 
Lovell’s field, and called it their park. Fred was po- 
lice, and kept all obtruding parties from the premises. 

The boys now went over to Will’s house to help 
him hoe the corn. 

When the girls were alone, Lizzie said : The great- 
est fun we have in the city is to make calls. We 
girls dress up as if we were really stylish, and ring 
the bell to one of the big houses, and make believe 
we are going to call on the lady that lives there. 
Then before the girl comes to the door, we run off 
and get out of sight. Ma found me out one time 
and gave me a whipping.” 

“Why, Lizzie Kellett,” cried Bee, “it’s saucy to 
ring folks’ bells, and you was ’ceitful. Then mamma 


‘‘Let’s Play We Are City People.” 255 

says rich people are no better to call on than poor 
people.” 

“ There, Bee Lovell, I never heard you preach be- 
fore. I am eight years old, and I know what style is. 
But you needn’t play make-believe calls unless you 
want to.” 

“I do want to; only let us make truly calls. 
There is Mrs. Parker’s baby ; we have never called 
on him for a long time. I guess he thinks we are not 
very polite. You will be my little girl, Bess, and 
must call me mamma.” 

“Ess, mamma.” 

“ You should say, ‘ Yes, marm,’ to me.” 

“ I’d like to see the baby,” said Lizzie ; “ and we 
must dress real fashionable.” 

“ But sometimes ma wears her calico wrapper when 
she goes into Mrs. Parker’s,” returned Bee. 

“ That’s because she is only a country-woman. You 
see, we are ladies.” 

“ I guess she’s a lady, too. I would not be so city- 
tied as you are. You never saw any apples growing 
till you came to Mrs. Bradley’s. Well, I must go 
into the house and get that child dressed.” 

As the children were examining the little dresses 
that hung in the clothes-press, Bess teazed to wear 
her best white dress ; but Bee remarked : 

“No, no, child; you must wear your blue velvet 
that ties over your shoulders with ribbons. Velvet 
costs more than muslin, and Mr. Parker’s folks are 
rich; he has just bought another cow, one of Mr. 
Jennings’s pigs, too.” 

“But rich people are no better to call on than 
poor people,” repeated Lizzie, roguishly. 


256 


Gems Without Polish. 


Bee had no answer. She put the velvet dress 
on Bess, and told lier to sit in a chair so as not to 
soil her clothes and “get all unfashionable.” She 
herself put on a pretty checked silk, which she con- 
fessed was made out of one of Aunt Mary’s old dresses. 
She then loaned her box of ribbons to Lizzie, who 
tied a blue one round her waist, a pink one at her 
throat, and a red one on her hair. 

The. children now viewed themselves in the mirror, 
and decided they were “ real stylish.” 

Two pairs of old kid gloves were found. Bee pro- 
posed that each should wear a black glove on one 
hand and a brown one on the other, so that people 
would think they each had two pairs. Lizzie objected 
in Bee’s own words, “That would be ’ceitful;” so 
Bee decided to wear the brown pair and Lizzie the 
black pair. 

Bess now unstopped her little bottle of cologne, and 
perfumed three rather soiled handkerchiefs. 

“Now, Bess, you must be real p’lite,” said Bee, 
with a serious air ; “ ’cause you are a Lady’s Delight. 
You mustn’t ask questions, or teaze for something to 
eat, or point at any thing in the room. Don’t you 
forget.” 

“No.” 

“ Speak more ’spectful to meP 

“But ’oo told me to jest to say ’Ess’m and said 
nothing ’bout No’m.” 

“Put the marm on every time; and don’t say any 
thing about Mrs. Parker’s eyes. She is cross-eyed.” 

“ She isn’t cross-eyed ; her eyes are.” 

“We must take our cards, so as to leave them if 
Mrs. Parker isn’t at home,” suggested Lizzie. 


Let’s Play We are City People.” 


257 


‘‘ Eat we liaven’t any name cards.” 

‘‘Well, I wouldn’t go calling without cards. We 
city girls take advertising cards and write some rich 
lady’s name on the back. We play we are s’iety 
folks, you see.” 

“ Then I will take mamma’s cards and write Mrs. 
Holt’s name on them. Her husband is the richest 
man in the village ; and you can be Mrs. Gibbons, 
the lawyer’s wife.” 

“ Wich peoples aint no better to call on than poor 
peoples,” repeated Bess. 

“How, Bess, I guess my conscience knows enough 
to tell me that without any of your help. But don’t 
you want to wear mamma’s sweeping-cap ? Pink 
is so ’coming to you ; ’twill look better than your 
bonnet.” 

The three little girls presented a truly laughable 
appearance as they went down the road, switching 
their skirts and twirling their parasols in a very im- 
portant manner. 

As they neared Mrs. Parker’s Bee ran ahead, and 
was about to enter the side door, when Lizzie called 
out, “ O Bee, Bee, they’ll think you are a beggar if 
you go to the back door.” 

Bee retraced her steps, and, with the others, mounted 
the front-door stoop. 

She was about to open the door when Lizzie pulled 
her hand from the knob, exclaiming, “ It is only styl- 
ish to ring the bell.” 

“But don’t you s’ pose I know Mrs. Parker well 
’nuff to w^alk right in? She will think I am mad 
with her if I ring; then the bell might wake the 
babjL” 

17 


258 


Gems Without Polish. 


“We want him awake if we are going to call on 
him. I will ring the bell;’’ but she could not 
reach it. 

“ Let us knock,” proposed Bee ; “ nobody ever rings 
our bell ; they always knock.” 

“ [N’o, Bee, don’t you knock ; that is not stylish ; 
and you’ll knock the skin off your hands and the 
paint off the door.” 

“My mother don’t b’lieve in too much style, 
and I don’t; and I’m in a hurry to see that 
baby.” 

Lizzie stood on her tiptoes and tried to reach the 
bell, but in vain. A large stone was brought from 
the road for her to stand upon ; yet this did not 
avail. 

“I dess I tan wing it if ’oo holds me up,” said 
Bess ; but she could not. 

The children decided to sit on the steps until some 
one tall enough to reach the bell might pass. Long 
and patiently they waited, while the hot sun beat 
down upon them. Bess was most uncomfortable in 
her thick velvet suit, yet made no complaint. 

“O, there’s Mr. Bray,” cried Bee. “Mr. Bray! 
Mr. Bray ! wont you please ring the bell for us? We 
can’t reach it.” 

The farmer stopped the oxen he was driving and 
came up to the little girls. 

“ So you want me to ring the bell for you, hey ? 
Why, this is Lovell’s girl ; your mother is a second 
cousin to Parker’s wife on her father’s side, and 
can’t you go into her house without such ceremony ? 
Guess Brownville is ‘ deludilating ’ if things is com- 
ing to this. Is the door locked? ” 


“Lets Play We are City People.” 259 

“ No, sir. But we are pla3ung city folks, and want 
to Lave the bell rung. That is style.” 

“Ha-ha!” laughed the jolly man, giving a tre- 
mendous pull to the bell. 

“ I thank you ever so much for happening along 
and for being so tall,” said Bee. “ V^e’ll give you 
one of our cards for the trouble we made you ; but — 
but please don’t tell any one that you had to ring the 
bell for us.” 

Mr. Bray took the cards and went off laughing. 

Mrs. Parker’s “hired girl” answered the ring. 

“ Why, Beatrice Lovell, are you crazy ? You nearly 
broke the bell. The idea of making me come to the 
door when I am so busy.” 

“Is the lady of the hoase in?” asked Bee. 

“ Of course she is. AVhy didn’t you come to the 
back door instead of tracking the dirt in here ? I 
swept this entry carpet last week, and didn’t think it 
would be stepped on again for a good while, now 
they’ve given up the sociables.” 

“We are playing we are ladies, and called on the 
baby,” said Bee. “This is Miss Kellett — Mrs. Gib- 
bons, I mean ; and this woman is Miss Lord, Lizzie.” 

“One of the cit}" girls? Well, I understand 
now.” 

“_We will send our cards up,” announced Lizzie. 
“One of the city girls said that’s genteel.” 

“No, no,” answered Miss Lord. “Run right up- 
stairs in the best room and you will find Sarah and 
the baby. Wipe your feet tirst.” 

“What made you introduce me to the servant?” 
asked Lizzie, as the little girls were mounting the 
stairs. 


260 


Gems Without Polish. 


‘‘ Because she is as good as any one if she is a hired 
girl.” 

‘‘ Why does she call Mrs. Parker Sarah ? ” 

“Why shouldn’t she when she is right in the fam- 
ily with her? Funny if she didn’t.” 

“We’s tome to see the ’ittle baby,” cried Bess, as 
they entered the best room. 

“ O, how do you do, dear ? ” said Mrs. Parker, who 
was holding baby. 

“ All lie says is ‘ goo, goo.’ Does that mean How 
’oo do ? ” asked Bess. “ What a pretty tent he’s dot 
over his cradle! Dr. Murray said ’oor baby didn’t 
break any body’s nose. I think he’s real ’sultin to 
talk that way. ’Oo wouldn’t hurt any body, would 
’oo, baby?” 

Mrs. Parker laughed, and asked, “Is this one of 
the city children ? ” 

“O, yes! I will introduce her,” cried Bee. “Mrs. 
Parker, this is Lizzie Kellett; and Lizzie Kellett, 
this is Mrs. Parker.” 

“I am glad to see you, dear,” said Mrs. Parker. 
“ Are you stopping at Bee’s ?” 

“ Ho’m ; I am at Mrs. Bradley’s.” 

“ Is she well ? ” 

“No’rn; she is nervous.” 

“Well, Bess, I am glad your mother sent over her 
sweeping-cap. She promised to let me take it to see 
how to make mine.” 

“ That is my late-style bonnet,” answered the young 
miss, who felt rather insulted. “We are playing 
style ; so we is dressed up. Did Bee wake the baby 
up when she cracked the door ? ” 

“ When she cracked the door? What do you mean ? ” 


“Let’s Play We are City People.” 


261 


“ She opened the door just a ’ittle crack first to 
peek in. She cracked it. May I see the baby’s work- 
basket ? ” 

The baby basket was shown. Bess tried the tiny 
brush and comb on herself, smelled of the soap, and 
asked if she could wear the baby’s bosom-pin to the 
next party. 

Master Parker’s wardrobe was next displayed. 
Bess thought it a shame that all his dresses w^ere 
night-dresses ; but she liked his little “ white shams,” 
and wanted one in exchange for her red shawl. 

“ What is the baby’s name ? ” asked Bess. “ Is it 
^goo, goo?’ That is all he says when I ask him.” 

“We have not named him yet,” replied Mrs. Par- 
ker. “ Can’t you children think of a pretty name ? ” 

“God must ha’ had some name for him; I wish 
he’d ha’ sent the name with the ’ittle baby. Name 
him Sambo, after my black dollie.” 

“ Call him Tom Thumb, he is so little,” suggested 
Bee. 

“ Harry is the nicest name,^’ said Lizzie. “ But 
how long do you want us to stay ? ” 

“Just as long as you wish.” 

“ I have been wondering if you are going to ask us 
to stay to tea. You see we are company.” 

“ You had better wait and visit me when you come 
to Brownville next year. I have two of the city boys 
now and am very busy. Bess, darling, why don’t you 
sit dowm ? ” 

“ Bee told me to sit up straight, and sitting up isn’t 
sitting down.” 

“ She is my little girl,” said Bee. “ Bat she hasn’t 
been polite. She has rolled the hassock all over the 


262 


Gems Without Polish. 


floor, and got down and wrapped herself np in the 
rug, and hasn’t stopped pointing at the pictures when 
Lizzie and I winked at her.” 

‘‘ O, I all fordot. But, Mrs. Parker, tan’t I hold 
’oor babyP’ 

After Bess had held the babe, Lizzie and Bee took 
tlieir turns. ^Mrs. Parker tlien showed baby’s feet. 

“ He hasn’t dot any ’tockings on,” cried Bess. 
‘‘ Only ’ittle worsted shoes. But it makes me hungry 
to go calling.” 

Mrs. Parker passed the apple-dish to her young 
callers. 

After they had eaten their apples the children an- 
nounced that they must go home. 

Come again, soon,” said Mrs. Parker. 

‘‘ Will to-morrow be soon enough ? ” asked Bee. 

‘‘ Yes, I think so.” 

“ Please be gone when we come,” said Lizzie. “ So 
we can leave our cards.” 

After the children had reached the yard, Lizzie re- 
gretted that they had forgotten to talk about the 
weather, which she considered an unpardonable blun 
der in stylish calling. 

The little city girl had not said much during the 
call, but had thought a great deal. She had wondered 
why her baby brother could not be as sweet and clean 
and good-natured as Baby Parker, why he could not 
have a pretty cradle instead of an old rocking-chair to 
sleep in, and why her mother could not be as gentle 
and patient with him as Mrs. Parker was with her 
baby. 


Among the Flowers. 


263 


CHAPTEK XYIT. 

AMONG THE FLOWERS. 

“Flower ia the crannied wall, 

I pluck you out of the crannies ; — 

Hold you here, root and all, in my hand. 

Little flower — but if I could understand 
What you are, root and all, and all in all, 

I should know what God and man is,” 

“ Let’s go botanizing,” cried Aunt Mary, Thursday 
morning. 

“ What is botanizing ? ” asked Daisy. 

“ When May tears flowers to pieces, that is botan- 
izing,” answered Bee. When I tear them to pieces, 
that is mischief. Uncle Dick tells his scholars that 
botanizing is letting the flowers tell all about them- 
selves.” 

‘‘ I did not know that your uncle was a teacher,” 
observed Daisy. 

“ He is not a teacher, and he doesn’t teach. Pie is 
a professor and professes medicine in college,” 

“ Let us all go out in the grove now,” said Aunt 
Maiy. I liave sent Johnnie to ask lots of the other 
boys and girls to join us at that place.” 

When the grove was reached Jeanie and her guests 
were already there. Jack Snow, Paul Jennings, Sadie 
Woolridge, and the Pitkin and O’Laughlin sisters soon 
arrived with Johnnie. 

“ I wanted to give you a little talk about the flow- 


264 Gems AVithout Polish. 

ers,” bcffan Aunt Mary. “ l^ow, who can tell me what 
a plant is?” 

“ Something that grows,” answered Blanche How^e. 

“ But people grow ; so do dogs and birds.” 

‘‘A plant is something that grows without eating,” 
ventured Maggie O’Laugldin. 

Ko,” answered Aunt Mary. But let me tell 
you that the natui'al world is divided into three king- 
doms : the mineral kingdom, the vegetable kingdom, 
and the animal kingdom. The mineral kingdom fur- 
nishes earth, air, and* water as food for tlie vegetable 
kingdom, which in turn supplies the animal kingdom 
with food. Yes, you are right, plants do grow, but 
why do they ? ” 

“ Because they have the grow in them,” answered 
Chester. 

“ Bight. They all have life. 1 hope that yon boys 
and girls all have the grow in you, for you can be as 
great and good as any one. See, how those little ferns 
cling to that ledge, with scarcely any soil to gi’ow in, 
yet they do grow. You all can do the same.” 

“ That is what I have been thinking lately,” said 
Jack Snow. “But nobody ever talked that way to 
me before.” 

Aunt Mary pulled up a tiny maple-tree and passed 
it round to the boys and girls, who were now seated 
liere and there under the shady trees. 

“ AV^ho can tell me what the roots of the plants are 
for ? ” she asked. 

“To keep the plant in the ground so it wont blow 
away,” replied Paul. 

“Yes, but they have a still more important use. 
The roots draw in the plant’s nourishment which the 


Among the Flowers. 


205 


soil held in solution ; that is, in very fine particles. 
This solution or sap is to the plants what blood is to our 
bodies. If any part of the plant is bruised the sap 
will ooze out. The fluids are carried to every part of 
the plant. Think how far they are carried to nourisli 
the branches and leaves of that tall elm that is in our 
yard.” 

“ I don’t see how the sap gets ’way up there unless 
it is pumped up,” observed Jack. 

‘‘It is pumped, or, rather, drawn up in accordance 
with a law wliich I will not now try to explain very 
fully. The leaves throw off considerable water, 
earthy matter being left behind. The sap in the 
cells of the leaf is therefore denser, and draws upon 
the more watery contents of the cells of the stalk, 
which in turn draw upon those of the stem below, 
and so on, from cell to cell, until the root is reached. 
The sun, causing the water to evaporate from the 
leaves, produces this flow of sap. It is a beautiful 
process.” 

“ What are the cells ? ” asked Lucretia. 

“Every part of the plant is made up of millions of 
little cells. I have brought my microscope — not a 
very good one — and will let you look at this leaf un- 
der it. Then you can see the cells.” 

All enjoyed thus examining the leaf. 

“ What makes the leaf green ? ” asked Daisy. 

“ The green matter in the cells of the leaves makes 
them green ; it is called chlorophyl. In variegated 
flowers the substance in some of the cells is of one 
color, in others, of another. Of course, the walls of 
the cells are all transparent. There is no sign of an 
opening in any of the cells, yet there are thin places 


266 Gems Without Polish. 

in each, and two thin places come together, so the sap 
flows from cell to cell very easily.” 

‘‘ How can it, when the cells are all lighted up ? ” 
asked Bee. 

‘‘ You will And out when you are older. The cells 
of the root are very thin, so as to take in the nour- 
ishment. The hairs of the plant are nothing but cells 
drawn out. The cells of the bark are longer and 
thicker than those of the tender stem or leaf. When 
the cells are very close together v/e have hard wood 
such as the oak ; when the cells are not so close to- 
gether, we have soft wood like the white pine, in which 
you can almost see the space between the cells. These 
cells keep dividing and forming others ; there are two 
thousand to a foot. When the sap ceases to flow 
through any of the cells, that part of the tree dies. 
I once saw a tree one half of which had been killed 
by lightning while the other half was as green as could 
be. Who can tell why the leaves of most of our 
trees die every autumn, but the trees themselves still 
live?” 

Nobody could tell. 

‘‘ It is because there is not sufficient sunshine in the 
fall to cause the sap to circulate through the leaves, 
and, of course, they die. Some fall to the ground as 
soon as their life is gone; others remain on the 
branches for some time. Those that still cling to the 
branches during the cold autumn days remind me of 
little fairies loth to leave their old home. But now 
I will return to my little maple. This long root is 
the primary root; tlie smaller ones are the side 
roots, which grow continually, and draw in the nour- 
ishment. Tlie newer tliey are the more they will 


Among the Flowers. 267 

take in. Their hungry mouths are open all the 
time.” 

“ I should think plants might grow fast when they 
have so many mouths to eat with,” observed Mary. 

Aunt Mary continued : The dahlia-bulbs, turnips, 
and beets are only fleshy roots. They are stored with 
nourishment, which the plant draws up and feeds 
upon as it needs it. You see that, when we eat beets, 
we are eating the same food that the beet-plants eat. 
These plants, like people, keep a good supply of food 
down cellar. I once read of a man who wanted to 
watch the growth of the roots of a certain vegetable ; 
he dug a deep trench by the side of the plant, then 
very carefully washed the soil away from the roots 
by means of a light spray of water from a hose. Now, 
Johnnie, give me that bean I told you to bring.” 
She took the bean, cut it in two and, displaying the 
embryo within, said : ‘^This is a real little plant. If 
you should put the bean in the ground two shoots 
would start from the embryo ; one, growing downward, 
would become the root, the other, growing upward, 
would become the plant. The root grows by length- 
ening at the end, the stem grows by producing joints. 
When the little plant first begins to grow it must eat 
the nourishment that is in thel^ean.” 

I should think the plant would grow upside down 
when you put the seed into the ground upside down,” 
remarked Blanche, who was enjoying this conversation 
much more than the others. 

‘‘The stem always bends upward,” replied Aunt 
Mary, “ no matter how the seed is put into the ground. 
The stem does not grow bent, but bends after it grows, 
and can bend much faster than it can grow; just as 


268 


Gems Without Polish. 


boys and girls can bend toward good or evil mnch 
faster than they can grow.” 

What makes the stem bend ? ” asked Jeanie. 

“ Because every part of the plant tries to grow to- 
ward the light. May be you have noticed that the 
leaves and flowers of your mother’s house-plants al- 
ways grow on that side of the plant that is next to 
the window. The cells of the plant shorten on the 
side which is nearest to the strongest light, and this 
shortening makes the plant bend. I used to turn my 
plants round every day so that there would be leaves 
and flowers on all sides. I now want every body to 
see how many different kinds of leaves you can find, 
and I will tell you about them.” 

All the young people except Blanche, and May, 
who preferred to stay with the little cripple, ran in 
every direction. They soon returned with their hands 
filled with leaves, which they threw in Aunt Mary’s 
lap. She counted forty different kinds. 

If we can find so many different leaves in this 
little grove, just think how many different species 
there must be in the whole world,” she said. “ What 
do you suppose the leaves are for ? ” 

“ To make the world the more beautiful,” answered 
Blanche. 

‘‘ Yes, God means for all his works to help beautify 
the world, yet he has a use for every thing. What- 
ever has life must breathe; and the leaves are the 
lungs of the plants. Who knows why leaves are gen- 
erally so thin ? ” 

“So there will be room for a great many and they 
wont be crowded,” answered Mary O’Laughlin. 

“So they can wave prettily, and give shade to us, 


Among the Floweks. 


269 


and to the plants and animals that like to be in shady 
places,” replied Lucretia. 

“ The real reason is to give the plants a better chance 
to breathe. They breathe in the poisonous carbonic 
acid which is in the air, and give out oxygen that we 
need ; they also give out water. The upper part of 
the leaf being composed of more cells than the under 
part is much greener, more polished too. The skin 
on the under part being thinner the leaves breathe 
through the cells that are there. The under part does 
not like the sun. Last spring I experimented on that 
young maple near our back door. Without breaking 
the stem I twisted the leaf so that the under surface 
was upward. I fastened it with a string.” 

“ O yes,” put in May ; “ and the sun twisted the 
leaf right back the way it was first. I guess the 
plant thought it knew how to grow without our 
help.” 

“ Then, you remember, I turned another leaf up- 
side down and inclosed it in a slight casing of wood, 
in such a way as not to injure its growth.” 

“Yes, and the leaf withered up,” said Johnnie, 
“ for it had the sun on the under part.” 

“ The pulp, or inward part of the leaf, is held to- 
gether by the skeleton or frame-work. The whole is 
covered by a thin, transparent covering,” continued 
Aunt Mar3\ “ The central part of the woody frame- 
work is the mid-rib, the smooth ones are the veins. 
These keep dividing and subdividing until they can- 
not be seen.” 

“ I fixed some skeleton leaves last year,” said Jeanie. 

I put the green leaves in acid, which ate away the 
pulp and left the frame- work. We might make some 


270 


Gems Without Polish. 


this afternoon, Lucretia; but why don’t the ribs of 
the lily-of-the-valley leaves branch out ? ” 

‘‘ Tliey belong to another class of leaves, and are 
said to be parallel veined,” answered Aunt Mary. 
“Now, how do leaves grow from the stem?” 

“Just as they happen to,” replied Sadie. 

“But nothing ever happens in nature. God has 
a plan for every thing. Look at this wormwood plant 
that I have just pulled up. Its leaves are opposite ; 
there is a pair at each joint of the stem. Now no- 
tice this stalk of yarrow; its leaves are alternate, 
only one appearing at each joint of the stem; there 
are three leaves in one turn round the stem, the 
fourth leaf being over the first, the fifth over the 
second, and so on. We will always find the second 
leaf one third of the way round the stem from the 
first ; the third two thirds of the way round, and, as 
I have said, the fourth directly over the first, or the 
whole distance round the stem. Of course, in some 
kinds of plants there will be more than three leaves 
in one turn round the stem. The leaves of nearly all 
plants are either opposite or alternate ; some, how- 
ever, are said to be whorled. We can always tell 
at just what place every leaf will appear. This rule 
never fails. Just notice how many different shaped 
leaves there are. Those that are all in one piece, 
like the maple, are simple; those that consist of dif- 
ferent parts, like the horse-chestnut, are compound. 
(Some leaves are pointed, some rounded, others heart- 
shaped, and so on. I have a friend who made a large 
collection of pressed leaves. It was very interesting.. 

“ But I want to tell you of the stems. They grow 
in two different ways. Will you please run up to the 


Among the Flowers. 271 

garden, Johnnie, and get me a piece of corn- 
stalk?” 

After Johnnie had gone and returned Aunt Mary 
cut in two the corn-stalk that he brought, and ob- 
served, “ You seetliat this corn-stalk has no bark nor 
pith, but consists of woody threads. AVhen such 
plants live for more than one year the oldest and 
hardest wood is on the outside, while the inner part 
is soft and new. These plants are said to be en- 
dogenous, which means inside-growing. All other 
plants are said to be exogenous, whicli means outside- 
growing. All our trees and shrubs grow thus, and 
have bark and pith and grow by circles. A new 
layer of wood grows outside of the first layer, and 
so on. You can tell the age of a tree by counting 
its rings. Some trees live for a great many years. 
Suppose we cut down one of these small maples and 
see how. old it is. Please go back to the house, 
Johnnie, and get the hatchet.” 

“ Yes’m, and we boys will play it is winter and we 
are logging in the woods.” 

After the hatchet had been brought several sitiall 
trees were felled and examined. One was five years 
old, anotlier ten. Lucretia observed that plants, un- 
like people, could not be deceitful about their ages. 
Blanche and Eftie said that they should take the pines 
that were felled home with them for Christmas-trees. 

‘‘The endogenous, or inside-growing, reminds me 
of the way Bess dressed her doll the other day,” said 
Aunt Mary. “ She first put on the doll’s basque, then 
her dress skirt, and lastly her under-clothing. The 
exogenous, or outside-growing, is similar to the way 
Estelle dressed her doll at the same time. She put 


272 


Gems' Without Polish. 


on the doll’s under-clothing first, then her dress skirt, 
and lastly her polonaise. 

‘‘But let us talk about the flowers now. How 
many parts are thei’e of a flower, and what are they ? ” 
“ The leaves, and stem, and little threads that grow 
out of the flower,” answered Mollie. 

“ Yes ; and yet there are other parts. Tlie threads, 
as you call them, are stamens — that is, all but the long- 
est one, which is the pistil. The leaves are the pet- 
als ; all the petals taken together form the corolla. 
The green leaves of that geranium Jeanie has in her 
button-hole are the sepals ; all the sepals together 
form the calyx. Here is a fuchsia I brought as an 
illustration. How many stamens has it ? ” 

“ Eight, and one pistil,” answered Paul. 

“ And how many sepals ? ” 

“ Four, and they are purple,” replied Lucretia. 
“Yes; and how many petals? Well, no matter; 
the flower is double, and we wont stop to count so 
many of these little red petals. But you did not name 
the seed-vessel, which is called the ovary, and, when 
ripened, the pericarp. I have cut open the seed-ves- 
sel of this fuchsia, and will pass it around that you 
may all see the little green seed therein. The petals 
of the flowers are the least important part ; they 
merely protect the other parts from cold, rough winds, 
and from the dust ; and, by the way, there are hairs 
around some flowers, on many plants, to keep insects 
from destroying their tender parts. At the top of 
each stamen is a little bag, or cell, called the anther. 
This is filled with a powder called pollen.” 

“ Do the flowers powder their pretty faces ? ” asked 
Mary O’Laughlin, roguishly. 



Among the Flowers. 


273 


!Not exactly. Flowers aren’t as foolish as people. 
The anther opens and the pollen falls upon the stigma 
— that little thing you see at the top of the pistil — 
then is carried to the half-formed seeds in the ovary 
and completes them. I will place some of the pollen 
of this fuchsia under the microscope.” 

As the children, one by one, examined the golden 
grains under the lens Bee observed ; 

‘‘I wish that when the Lord makes such pretty 
things he would make them large enough for us to 
see them.” 

‘‘ But he makes enough beautiful things that you 
can see,” replied Aunt Mary. ‘‘ The world could do 
without its gold-dust much better than without this 
pollen. jSTo flowers could be produced without this, 
and how dreary the earth would be without any flow- 
ers ! Some flowers have no pollen ; it is brought to 
them from other flowers. God puts honey or nectar 
ill the flowers for the bees and humming-birds ; and, 
as they gather it, the pollen falls on their wings and 
is carried by them to flowers that have none. The 
wind also carries the pollen from one flower to an- 
other. I often think what a precious freight the 
wind bears. Who knows why the flowers are often 
of such bright colors ? ” 

“ I always supposed God made the flowers of bright 
colors to make the world appear the more cheerful,” 
answered May. 

‘‘ But that was not his only reason. Flowers are 
of gay colors to attract the bees to them. If the 
blossoms were of dull colors, the little fellows could 
not And them so easily. Even little boys and girls 
can spy out the red clover-heads when they are at a 
18 


274 


Gems Without Polish. 


great distance, and I have seen them run and gather 
the flowers to sip out the honey as if they were bees.” 

“ 1 got lots of honey out of a clover, this morning, 
that was just as double as could be,” said Sadie. 

“ But you seldom, if ever. And wild flowers that 
are double,” said Aunt Mary. “ The clover bloom, 
instead of being one flower, is made up of a great 
many tiny blossoms.” 

“ I think it is too bad to call the flowers that grow 
in the field ‘ wild ’ flowers,” observed Effie. “ They 
don’t look wild at all.” 

‘‘ Why doesn’t Dod make his wild Powers double ? ” 
asked Bess. Hasn’t he not dot leaves ’nuff to do 
’round ? Does he do ’round every mornin’ and open 
all the Powers ? ” 

“No, no,” returned Aunt Mary. “He has hun- 
dreds of little sunbeams that he sends to open the 
flowers. He gives the plants plenty of soil and rain 
and sunshine, and tells them to look after themselves. 
And that is the way he generally works.” 

“ But I don’t see how ’oo tan say Dod opens the 
Powers when he don’t touch ’em.” 

“ Who opens your eyes every morning ? ” 

“I does.” 

“ Do you pick them open, or even touch 4hem ? ” 

“No’m ; I jes’ want ’em to open and they opens.” 

“ But they would not open unless there was a 
power, or will, tliat told them to. So no flower could 
blossom until God tells it to. Every plant, bird, and 
animal, every person, lives and grows only because 
God wills that they should. There is a power back 
of nature which controls every movement. That 
power must belong to one being, namely, to God ; just 


Among the Flowers. 


275 


as the will power which enables little Bess to open 
her eyes belongs to one living being. You say that 
your mother runs her machine, yet she does not turn 
each wheel with her hand ; she merely places her feet 
on the treadle, and the wheels, being all connected, turn 
themselves. At the Centennial I saw the great Cor- 
liss engine that turned hundreds of machines and 
thousands of wheels. So God, who is an infinitely 
greater power than this mammoth engine, can cause 
every minor power in the universe to be working at 
the same time. I am glad Bess asked the questions 
she did, for I wanted to teach this grand truth to you 
older boys and girls.” 

“ It is wonderful,” remarked Lucretia. “ But I 
don’t see why some flowers are so fragrant while 
others that grow near them have no perfume at all ; 
nor why plants that are poisonous and others that 
are harmless should grow in the same soil and 
sunshine.” 

‘‘No one can answer that question,” returned Aunt 
‘ Mary. “ Now I want to ask you all some questions, 
to see if you can remember what I have told you. 
In the first place, how many kinds of life are there ? ” 

“ Two : city life and country life,” cried Effie. 

“ No, there are three kinds of life,” broke in Mol- 
lie : “ mineral, vegetable, and animal.” 

“ Yes ; and what does the little plant that is in the 
seed feed on ? ” 

“ Beans, when they are going to be bean plants,” 
answered Bee. 

“Yes; the food that is stored in the seed. And 
what is the food of the plants after they are grow- 
ing above surface ? ” 


276 


Gems Without Polish. 


“ The soil and water,” answered Sadie. 

‘‘ And how do stems grow ? ” 

‘‘In two ways,” replied Jack. “They are called 
Diogenes and exogenese.” 

“No; Diogenes was the man that went around 
hunting for an honest man and never found him,” 
broke in Johnnie. “I think Uncle Dick used to 
know him — Diogenes, 1 mean, not the honest man. 
But if George Washington had not died so soon, 
Diogenes might have found the honest man he was 
looking for.” 

“ But Diogenes lived hundreds and hundreds of 
years before Washington was born,” corrected Aunt 
Mary. “ But our tw’O kinds of stems are endogenous 
and exogenous.” 

“ I never can remember such long names,” sighed 
Blanche. “ I wish I could, so as to tell the folks at 
liome about the flowers.” 

“ Suppose we have a ‘ spelling-match,’ and learn 
to spell the different parts of the flowers,” proposed 
Aunt Mary. 

“ I don’t feel spelly now,” said Bess, “ but I can 
spell my A B C’s ; A spells A ; B spells B.” 

The spelling- match occasioned much merriment. 
There was some cheating, however. The word 
stamen came to Chester. “ S-t, s-t,” he stammered. 
“ Amen,” whispered Johnnie, and thereby saved his 
friend from misery.^ 

“ I have had such a nice time ! ” said Blanche, as 
the party was leaving the grove. “ I wish this day 
could last forever.” 

“ So do I,” said Mollie. “ Why, Miss Lovell, you 
know so much, iUseems as if you could make flowers 


Among the Flowers. 


277 


yourself if you only had the leaves — I mean the petals 
— and stamens and other parts that you have told us 
about this afternoon.” 

‘ Even if I could, no one but God could put life 
into the flowers. I have only told you what I have 
read in my botany. I hope that all you boys and 
girls will study this book when you are older. I now 
want you to gather all the different kinds of flowers 
you can And ; and I will tell you how to press them, 
arrange them on papers, and to write in the corner of 
each paper a few items concerning its flower. You 
can then tie the papers together, or paste them in a 
scrap album, and have a botany written by nature 
and yourself. Only you should have commenced this 
work a week ago.” 

All were delighted with this suggestion, and col- 
lected many beautiful specimens. 

As the Lovells and their guests reached home, 
they stopped to examine the old-fashioned flowers in 
Aunt Mary’s garden. 

Aunt Mary broke ofl one of her roses for Bess. 

“’Oo didn’t pull the teeth .out of the rose; it bit 
me,” cried the baby girl. 

^‘Foor child ! auntie will pull the old briers right 
out,” laughed Aunt Mary. 

“ If ’oo’ll div’ me a cent to plant I wont cry ’cause 
it bleeded my Anger. Johnnie planted one bean and 
dot lots of beans for his bean-blower, and I’m doing 
to plant a cent and det lots of cents for my country- 
week mite-box.” 

But the cent is very different from the bean,” ex- 
plained Aunt Mary, 

“The horse-chestnut wasn’t like the bean, but 


278 


Gems Without Polish. 


Johnnie planted them both and dot a horse chestnut- 
tree and a bean vine. I want a cent plant.” 

‘‘ But the bean has life ; the cent has no life. Yet 
here is a cent to plant. When people hear how you 
are trying to raise money for the conn try- week, may 
be they will put more pennies in your mite-box ; then 
your cent will be bearing other cents.” 

Bess planted her cent and put down a stick for the 
“ cent vine ” to run upon. 

“ It seems as if a lot of perfumery had rained 
down here,” remarked Daisy, sniffing the air. 

“ You smell the mignonette and alyssum,” answered 
May. ‘‘I will send some of these plants to your 
mother by Chester, that she may have a window- 
garden.” 

“ Those ‘ polka-dot ’ lillies are pretty, the red gera- 
niums too,” said Chester. “But I’d rather have 
a pumpkin-garden or a tomato-bed than a flower- 
garden.” 

“You can have tomatoes growing in the house,” 
answered Johnnie. “ Peas and beans too. I have 
tried it. I’ll give you the seed to plant.” 

“ And I’ll div’ ’oo some pickle seed,” added Bess. 


Going Home. 


279 


CHAPTER XYIII. 

GOING HOME. 

Friday morning, the last day of the country- week, 
as Jane Meredith was packing her valise her hostess 
appeared, exclaiming, ‘‘Good news! You are not 
going home to-day, nor to leave this house till next 
spring — when I shall return to Brown ville after 
spending the winter in the city,” 

“ Why — what — I don’t understand.” 

“ I mean, you can have all the sewing that you can 
do by staying here. There is no seamstress in 
Brown ville, and the farmers’ wives carry all their work 
to the village. 1 called on several ladies yesterday, 
and recommended your work to them. I learned 
how many would engage your services, should you 
remain, and after making a rough estimate of the 
work they expected to have done, and of the price 
they were willing to pay, I found that you could earn 
enough to support yourself and child. It is too much 
for farmers’ wives to do their sewing together with 
all their other work ; and many who do not generally 
hire their dresses made will doubtless want you to do 
some work for them, especially since they are all in- 
terested in you.” 

“ You are so good — so good ! ” This was all Jane 
could say. 

“ But I also have an interest in the matter. I want 
you to take care' of this house during the winter. 


280 


Gems Without Polish. 


Unless a fire is kept the frost spoils the wall-paper. 
Two rooms had to be re-papered this spring for this 
very reason. The moths get into the carpets, and I 
dislike to leave the pictures, ornaments, dishes, and 
such things without some one to look after them. 
Now will you accept my offer ? ” 

“Indeed I will; but I don’t deserve such kind- 
ness.” 

Jane brushed the tears from her eyes. 

“ Yes, dear, you do deserve it,” answered Mrs. 
Pankin very softly. “ One who has passed through 
what you have, and come out so pure and good and 
resigned to your lot, deserves the best of every thing* 
You have done me more good than all the sermons I 
ever listened to. I never knew how to appreciate 
my home until I opened my door to you who had no 
home. Truly ‘one half of the world does not know 
how the other half lives.’ ” 

Jane caught her child in her arms, and exclaimed, 

“ O, Harry, precious, he was going to stay here — old 
love ! — and not leave the piggies and chickies after 
all. O, Mrs. Pochester, I don’t know how to thank 
you ! I so dreaded to return to the hard, dull life in 
that wicked city.” 

“ I’ll sank her,” cried the baby, running from his 
mother’s arms to the side of Mrs. Pankin. Makins’ a 
pretty bow, he said, “ I’ll sank ’oo for what mamma 
tan’t sank ’oo for, and I’ll sank ’oo again, if ’oo’ll dive 
me some raisins.” 

Mrs. Pankin kissed the little one and promised 
him some raisins ; then, turning to his mother, re- 
marked : “Harold has not yet had enough of the 
country air. He can play out-doors all day, and take 


Going Home. 


281 


care of himself while you are at work. I will leave 
my sewing machine for you. I only brought it to do 
a little plain sewing. I have another at home. By 
the way, there are several wealthy families at the 
further end of this town — business men wlio have re- 
tired from active work. Probably their wives and 
daughters will supply. you with a great deal of plain 
sewing.” 

I am so glad to have Harold out of the alleys of 
Boston,” said Jane. Some rough boys once tried 
to teach him to swear when I left him to play in 
the yard. After that I kept him in for weeks at a 
time, although he needed the air. I had to keep the 
windows down, except when he was asleep, that he 
might not hear the oaths of the men in the street 
— but, darling, I shall whip, if you pull the wings off 
that fly.” 

I — I didn’t unwing him ; but why doesn’t a fly 
ever sit down ? ” answei-ed Harold, trying to blow the 
large fly from his hand. “I want to go out-doors 
now and feed the chickies.” 

‘AYe generally leave a quantity of fuel in the fall, 
to which you will be welcome,” continued Mrs. 
Ban kin. “Also a part of the vegetables we raise 
shall be yours this year. I shall be glad to have you 
keep my flock of hens. I generally sell my fowls 
every autumn. I shall want to hear from you occa- 
sionally, and if you are ever out of work or money 
let me know at once. And you must make my 
flower-garden in the spring. Don’t think that you 
will be lonesome. Country people are more neigh- 
borly in winter than in summer, and, altogether, the 
most social class of people in the world. Let us go 


282 


Gems Without Polish. 


and tell Hortense what has happened. She asked me 
to prolong yoiir visit. You are to be mv guest until 
I return home.’' 

After the news had been reported to Hortense, 
tliey drove to the station. 

All who were there waiting for the train already 
knew of Jane’s good fortune. The country- weekers 
were glad that she was to remain in the country, and 
the Brownville people all had some pleasant remark 
to make concerning her stay. The Knights informed 
her that they would “ happen ’round after school to 
split wood, do her errands, and be the men of the 
house.” Frank would bring her a pint of milk each 
morning. Paul, who lived opposite Mrs. Rankin’s, 
promised to put up a telephone between the two 
houses. The Lady’s-Delights, with whom Jane was 
a general favorite, assured her that they would take 
care of Harold whenever she should be sick or extra 
busy, and that they would stay wdth her wdienever 
she wished. They even began to plan a pound-party 
for her. 

Jane was quite overcome. But two wrecks before 
she had felt as if she had no friends; now^ she was 
surrounded by a score who were planning for her 
w- elf a re. 

There w^ere other country-weekers who were to 
prolong their stay at Brownville. Captain Roberts 
was to keep the O’Laughlin girls an extra week. 
Mr. Parker was to hire Chester to work on his farm. 
Minnie George was to remain until the first of the 
week. 

All who were to return had their arms full of 
trophies from the country — fiowers, cat-tails, bags of 


Going Home. 


283 


apples, baskets of vegetables, etc. Fred carried a 
bag of bay for bis father's borse. Mrs. Rochester 
liad a bundle of herbs ; Mrs. Sturgis a can of milk. 
Flossie wore two dress-skirts 'to make more room 
in her valise for the trinkets she bad been collecting 
for the past week. Mollie held a kitten, which 
she was to take home. Lizzie Kellett had a pet 
chicken in a rude wooden cage. Ira carried a stuffed 
squirrel. 

These children had come to the country as little 
men and women ; they were returning to the city as 
boys and girls. They had brought heavy hearts and 
bitter memories; they were carrying away light 
hearts and pleasant recollections. 

“ This has been the happiest week of my life,’’ re- 
marked Lucretia Hall. “Eveiy body has treated me 
as if I were a lady, and I shall always be as much as 
people think I am.” 

“ 1 feel ten years younger,” said Mrs. Sturgis. 
‘‘ But I really feel sorry to leave baby behind, even if 
she has so good a home.” 

“ I can never repay the Brownville people for 
their kindness,” observed Mrs. Boid. “ Had it not 
been for this visit I should now be crying over a lit- 
tle grave, instead of laughing at the pretty ways of 
my baby.” 

I wish the country-week was a country-month,” 
cried Ira Tenney. “ I wonder if every body has 
given me all they meant to ! ” 

Little Belle was so afraid of forgetting her sis- 
ter’s advice to say “ Good-bye ” that she kept saying, 
through mistake ‘‘ How do you do ? ” 

When Mildred remarked that she should miss her 


284 Gems AVithout Polish. 

company, Mollie asked, ‘‘ Why don’t you ask us to 
stay longer ? ” 

At last the train arrived. The children who had 
been crying to remain “just one more day” dried 
their tears at the prospect of a ride in the cars. The 
good-byes were said, the handkerchiefs waved from 
the windows, and the country-weekers were gone. 

The country people remained at the station awhile, 
and discussed their guests. Mrs. Roberts said that 
she had been so busy with her two girls that she had 
forgotten she was in poor health. Mrs. Bolton’s com- 
pany had cured her of the blues. Mr. King observed 
that the home mission and temperance societies of the 
place would receive greater impetus from the sad tales 
told by the city children than from a dozen lecturers. 


The Coming Lecturer. 


2?5 


CHAPTER XIX. 

THE COMING LECTURER. 

“ The child is father of the man.” 

The coimtry-weekers had been home but a few 
hours when Jack Snow and Ira Tenney began to 
make arrangements for a lecture. Jack was to be the 
lecturer ; Ira the manager. 

“We want to give people — I mean the public — 
some idea of the country-week/’ observed Jack. 
“ Let’s put up a poster.” 

“ All right,” answered Ira. “ I have a lot of hand- 
bills in my pocket ; we’ll look ’em over and see what 
to do.” 

A dozen old hand-bills were spread on the sidewalk. 
The two boys studied them very carefully. Ira, tak- 
ing a piece of charcoal, began to mark an old paste- 
board box cover as a placard. 

“ I wonder why all these fellows have so many let- 
ters after their names,” said Ira. 

“Father says the M.D.’s are the doctors, and the 
D.D.’s the hig ministers,” answered Jack. “I don’t 
know who the LL.D.’s are ; but you had better put 
the whole alphabet after my name so as not to leave 
any honors out.” 

“All right. But they put dowm what folks say 
of the lectures. What great things have you ever 
done % ” 


286 


Gems Witpiout Polish. 


“Nothing; but Pll tell you the great things Pm 
going to do. Put them down ; and you might put the 
Knight’s cross at the top of the poster — but I don’t 
know what it means.” 

Here is the placard as it appeared after receiving 
Ira’s last touches. It was tacked to the dry-goods box 
in front of Mrs. Kellett’s. 

A GRATE LEoTURE 

ON X 

COXJNLTRY WEEK 
Bj 

Hon. Mr. Jack sNOW, esq., M.D., D.D., LL.D., Q.E.D. 

The Lecturer has just returned from a forewn trip 
to the grate Country of 

* BROW^YILLE, * 

and nose what he is talking about. The adress wil 
be lllusterated with PICTUREg maid with charcoal 
on Ills mother’s Bread-bord. 

Mr. SNOW will tell of the 

ANNIMALS, PLANTS, TREES, VITALS, and rOcks 

that are found on the Farm where he WAS. He wil 
give a unparalelled discription of the Race of Amer- 
icans known as 

qOUNTRY people. 

This discription may appear in the newspapers, and 
it may not ; so Come. 


X 

THE 


The Coming Lecturer. 


287 


CUEOSITIES 

from the Country wil be showed to the large and in- 
terested Ordience. These were found by MR. SNow, 
and are appels (as big as your 2 fists), a hens wing, 

a BIRDS NEST, a PIGS TOOTH, a BEAUTIFUL TOADSTUL, 
MOSSES, WHEAT, GUM, ACORNS, a POTATO (lie dug llis- 
self ), a wHiLLo wissEL, a sling shot, and dozenz of 

IMPLIMETS of the ^ATIYES. 

he wil wear a buttonhol BoKAY of flowers he picked 
with his Own Hands. His very cain which he car- 
ries grew in the Country. 

* TESTYMONIALS. * 

Mr. snow use to be a good NEwsboy. — Editor 
Boston Herald. (Ed. of Record says so to.) 

A SENCABLE BOY. — Mr. King, The Grate country 
preacher. 

Mr. gNOW IS GOIN TO START A INTERNATIONAL COUN- 
TRY WERE AND BE ITS FIRST PRESIDENT, CAUSE HE WANT 
TO NO WHAT EVER ONE THINKS OF IT. He IS GOIN TO 
TRY TO BETfER THE STAIT OF THINGS IN THE COUNTRY. 

Farmers dont get pay enough for thare work. — 
Ira Tenney, His Bisness Manager. 

Place — The speech will be on this Box. 

Time — The rackett will begin when the Fellows 
get along. 

ADMIgglOK — For nothing — if any ones got a 
Whole Hat with out no holes in, will he pleas bring 
it for a collexyun box ? Candy, peanutts, or coppers 
will be accepted. 


printed by TENNEY PRINTING CONSERN. 


28S 


Gems Without Polish. 


At two o’clock a large crowd had gathered around 
the lecture platform. Ira introduced Jack in the fol- 
lowing words : 

Boys and girls, I take great joy in introducing 
Mr. Jack Snow, the ’complished lecturer of the sea- 
son. He is going all over the world to lecture on the 
country-week, when he is a man; and we have the 
honor of hearing his first lecture on this great topic. 
He says he is much interested in getting away from 
the hot city, because Snow melts in the heat.” 

‘‘Hurrah for Jack and the country- week !” shouted 
a dozen boys and girls, who were now seated here 
and there on the sidewalk, and waving their hats and 
handkerchiefs. 

Jack made a bow and began: “Dear ladies and 
gentlemen, the country is a great park full of trees 
and plants and houses and barns. Everj^ farmer has 
his private animals ; his barns are full of cattle, cows, 
horses, hens, roosters, pigs, oxen, mosquitoes, barn- 
swallows, and rats.” 

“ Bats ! ” shrieked Pat O’Brien. 

The lecturer continued, and attemj^ted a few gest- 
ures. “Some of the barns are far ahead of our 
houses. You can run and run ever so far in the 
country and not be out of sight. I did not see a sin- 
gle drunk man while I was gone.” 

“ Don’t b’lieve it,” from a young urchin. 

Jack went on: “There isn’t a single landlord in 
the country ; all own their houses. I told one of the 
farm boys I lived in the biggest house in Boston, and 
jest came to the place to ’vestigate the country- week 
to see if it was a good way to reach the masses — if 
you know what that means; I don’t. The chap’s 


The Coming Lecturer. 


2S9 


motlier said she’d liave me sent home the next time 
she oaught me a-iibbing. Tlie folks thought we was 
a rjal show, and kept feeling of our arms to see if we 
liad fatted up. We had carriages to ride in, and the 
roads are so smooth you can’t hardly hear a sound 
when the team goes along.” 

Guess ye growed deaf ! ” cried James Parlin. 

‘‘No, sir; I could hear the birds sing; but there 
was more music to the rooster’s crowing, I thought. 
I’ll now tell you of the country people. They are 
just like the charity ladies. Every body knows every 
body there. Every body they know is their neigh- 
bors, and every body they don’t know don’t live in 
Brownville. All know what kinds of jelly every one 
is going to put up, and who has made pickles for the last 
two years, and who has not. I used to think country 
boys were cowards, but they are not. I say they are 
not! and I will never poke fun at them again. Every 
one knows how old every one is and the whole of their 
names, and who their grandfather was, just as teacher 
knows all about Longfellow and eT. T. Trowbridge. 
I will make the picture of the model farmer.” 

The likeness being wrought in charcoal made the 
ideal man of rather too dusky a complexion ; but the 
enthusiastic audience was well satisfied. 

“I will now display my curiosities,” continued the 
lecturer, motioning for Ira to pass him his package 
of trinkets. “ This is a branch of pine. There are 
pine-trees, on the hills, that wave like great green 
feathers. The girls made pine pillows to bring home, 
’cause some of ’em said they never slept on a pillow 
till they went to Brownville. These flowers that you 
see in my buttonhole are cucumber flowers. I will 

19 


290 


Gems Without Polish. 


now display this hen’s wing. This native bird uses 
its wing as a sort of bed-quilt for her children, that 
are called chickens. She seldom uses her wings to 
fly with any more than the girls use the wings of 
their hats to fly with. Mr. Tenney has been using 
this wing for a fan. Here is an apple I picked my- 
self. My manager will please pass the fruit down 
the aisle and each can take a small bite.” 

“This is the sort of a lectui*e I like,” cried sev- 
eral of the boys and girls as Ira passed the apple 
from one to another. 

“ There is only one street in Brownville,” contin- 
ued Jack ; “ and it is so long I guess it would reach 
from one end of Boston to the other three times. I 
never saw more than one or two persons on this road 
at one time.” 

“It is not likely folks would build such a long 
street for just that little travel,” observed one of the 
larger boys. 

“ But I tell you it is true,” answered Jack. “And 
there were such sights of pretty things in the coun- 
try ; you could look ever so far and see nothing but 
flowers, handsome vegetables and berries, and orchards 
of maple-trees, and brooks and birds. The country 
people have no stores ; for when they want eggs they 
go to the hen ; when they want vegetables they 
go to the garden ; when they want pork they kill a 
pig ; and they get milk from cows, and butter from 
butter-milk. You could get rich digging dandelion 
greens in the country. The food of these natives 
consists of brown bread, ‘johnny-cake,’ vegetables, 
salt pork (when the butcher or fish-man isn’t round), 
cake, molasses, gingerbread, and butter at every meal. 


The Coming Lecturer. 


291 


Why, yon could butter your bread on both sides if 
you wanted ; and O, the milk ! thick as ’lasses ! ” 

The lecturer smacked his lips; the audience did 
the same. 

“ Every body has a real crockery store in his house ; 
it’s a buttery, with dishes enough for every one; and 
every dish is washed after every meal. Apples grow 
on country trees just as they do on Christmas-trees. 
The country people beat the Cambridge fellows on 
eddication. They know the names of every plant that 
grows without looking in the dictionary. The letters 
tacked to the end of my name show that I have been 
to the country and learned a great deal, which is as 
follows : I found out a farm has a lot of fields. The 
one nearest the house is the yard ; you can pick flow- 
ers, without asking, from all the fields but the yard.” 

“ Don’t b’lieve it,” from two or three of the audi- 
ence. 

“ ’Tis so ; and an orchard is apple-tree woods. A 
crop is a great deal of corn that is raised to fill a hen’s 
crop. The woods is a whole lot of trees all together, 
where a whole zoo of wild animals is turned loose. 
Dirt is manufactured by the cart-load in Brownville. 
It is made out of old logs and leaves tumbling to 
pieces. Bushes are little trees that are never going to 
grow to be big trees. But don’t be bushes, my boys 
and girls; don’t stop growing; be trees, he trees! 
I say.” 

Tlie audience cheered lustily ; they considered their 
orator very eloquent. 

‘‘ Trees are just bound to grow in the country, even 
if there is not room for their roots,” continued Jack. 
“ I have seen their roots growing above ground — on 


292 


Gems Without Polish. 


ledges too. I will write on the board the name of 
some of the trees, and read as I write : apple-trees, 
pines, orchard-trees, forest-trees, elms, shade-trees, 
pear-trees, etc.” 

The lecturer next made rude drawings of a rake, 
a hoe, a churn, and other articles he had seen in the 
country. Then, erasing these with his coat-sleeve, 
he said : 

“ I will now draw the picture of a hog ; but 1 wish 
I had a copy to go by.” 

“ Take any one of the country-weekers,” suggested 
some one in the audience. 

“ ]^o ; ril not be so insulting. But this figure is 
quite true. Most pigs are white ; some are black, as 
this one is. Pigs do nothing but eat. After they 
have ate, and ate, and ate^ they are hogs. I will 
now rub out this hog and put in its place the farm- 
house, barn, and hen-pen too.” 

As each picture appeared all cheered heartily. 

Was tlie country air so very much different from 
ours ? ” asked a little girl who had just torn the brim 
from her hat to use as a fan. 

‘‘ Different ! Well, I guess so ! There is not city 
air enough to go round. It is kept on hand too long, 
and gets — well, I s’pose the cash-fellows would say it 
gets shop-worn. But the country air ! My ! [The 
lecturer paused and drew a long breath.] The coun- 
try air is as if some one had broke a lot of cologne 
bottles. You could smell the pine and pennyroyal 
and marigolds.” 

“ The country air is not as strong as the city air,” 
broke in Flossie Tenney. “ You can’t even smell the 
country air except when there are flowers round.” 


The Coming Lecturer. 


293 


“/’m giving this lecture,” shouted Jack, indig- 
nantly. “ Of course you can’t smell the country air, 
it is so fresh ; you can’t smell beefsteak when it is 
fresh, can you ? E’o, indeed ; only when it begins to 
rot. City air is rotten air, I believe. But don’t the 
country flowers smell lovely ! I and Ira went into 
the perfumery business. I ex-extrasted the juice of 
the flowers and plants into water, and put it up into 
bottles. Ira, bring out them bottles we have for sale. 
That’s" it. Ladies and gentlemen, this bottle in my 
right hand is full of pennyroyal cologne ; this in my 
left hand is fllled with tansy perfumery. One cent a 
bottle ; choice essence. Who will buy ? ” 

Two young bootblacks bought the cologne. 

“ The country people are so good there are no per- 
lice in Brownville,” continued Jack. “ There is only 
one family to one house. There is a bedstead to 
every bed in the country. You can look up and see 
acres and acres of blue sky ; you can look down and 
see crowds and crowds of plants — only they call them 
weeds. The chickens have wool before they have 
feathers ; they call it down.” 

Three new boys now appeared. They had brought 
several paper bags to blow up and burst, as a novel 
method of cheering the young orator. 

“ Nearly every one in the country is a farmer, ex- 
cept the minister and doctor,” resumed Jack, after 
they were seated. 

“ Just as if all the folks in one town would have 
one trade ! ” shouted one of the new-comers. 

“ But it is so. I’ll leave it to Tenney ; and there 
are as many trees in the country as there are people 
in Boston. I was treated like a gentleman — ’scorted 


294 


Gems Without Polish. 


to the depot — and they let me sleep in the best bed, 
where they put the minister and tin-peddler when 
they stay over-night. And the country people have 
telegraph wires for fences. I received so mucli Men- 
tion I hardly knew whether I was Grover Cleveland 
or myself. [A paper bag was heard.] And when I 
went to meeting the minister shook hands with me, 
as if I was of some consequence. My lecture is now 
all given ; but if any of the audience want to ask 
questions, go ahead!” 

“ What is the politics of the country ? ” asked a 
newsboy, as he removed a cigarette from his mouth 
for a moment. 

Jack pushed his hat on the back of his head and 
answered : 

Country folks are not all Prohibitionists, ’cause I 
beam tell of a farmer who saved up his wormy apples 
to make into cider. They are not all Democrats and 
they are not all ’Publicans ; but I heard Dr. Murray 
say the most of ’em voted the way their newspapers 
told ’em to.” 

“ It’s the Bible and not the newspaper that tells 
about publicans,” cried a little girl who attended 
mission-school. “ He was the one that got down 
on his face to pra}'.” 

“ Do berries grow in the country ? ” asked another 
little girl. 

“Yes, answered Jack. “You can pick all 

you want and not pay a cent. We didn’t pay for 
our lodgings either. Any more questions ? ” 

“ Any pretty girls there ? ” inquired the largest boy 
in the group. 

“Lots of ’em. Ked-cheeked ones. Don’t paint, 


The Coming Lecturer. 


205 


either. I — I should advise all the unmarried men of 
my audience to go to the rural districts for a wife.” 
Tremendous aj3plause, in which the lecturer joined. 
He stamped so earnestly upon his platform that it 
tipped over and he fell headlong therein. 

After quiet was restored Ira passed Ben Gray’s hat 
for the collection. Cigarettes, apple-cores, buttons, 
peppermints, and two coppers were among the con- 
tributions received. Jack threw the cigarettes "^to tlie 
ground, and, stamping upon them, exclaimed : 

“ I want you all to understand that I have given up 
smoking since I’ve been to the country. But I want 
to say that my business manager will lecture here to- 
morrow on more wonderful things than I have told 
you of.” 

“We don’t believe half what ye have telled us,” 
cried a little newsboy. “ Think you’d make a good 
editor, you lies so.” 

“ O no, I couldn’t run a newspaper, ’cause I had to 
knock off slang, while I was abroad, so the little girls 
wouldn’t learn it. But, really, I have told the whole 
truth.” 

“ Who believes it ? ” shouted Pat Bray. “ If things 
was as wonderful as you tell for we’d have hearn of 
’em afore. I say, fellows, let’s send a del-delegation 
to the country to ’vestigate, and see if Jack has been 
stuffino: us. But chink is rather scarce. Say; who 
will go?” 

The boys decided to settle the question after hear- 
ing Ira’s lecture. 


296 


Gems AVithout Polish. 


CHAPTEE XX. 

A SECOND ADOPTION. 

“ But I’ve been adopted, 

My name’s written down ; 

I’m heir to a mansion, 

A robe, and a crown.” 

One evening, about a week after the countrv-week- 
ers had returned to the city, Daisy and May were sit- 
ting alone in ‘‘ cosy corner.” 

They had been reading Little Lord Fauntleroy^ 
and May was talking on her favorite theme. 

‘‘How you enjoy talking about Jesus!” said Daisy. 

“ Why shouldn’t I ? I found liim when I was as 
youn^as little Lord Fauntleroy, and I expect to live 
with him forever. You like to talk about your 
mother Burnham because you expect to live with her 
all your life.” 

“ Y es. But I wish I was as good as the little boy 
in the book ; I wish I was half as good as you. But 
I don’t know how to be a Christian,” and Daisy looked 
serious. 

“Just give yourself into the Lord’s hands. You 
don’t have to wait to be something before you are 
converted. It is an act of giving, not of being. Give 
God your past years with all their mistakes, then give 
liim the years that are to come with all their hopes.” 

‘* But I am afraid I can’t keep good after God 


A Second Adoption 


297 


makes me good,” said Daisy, doubtfully. “Every 
morniug I say that I will keep myself good through 
the day, but I always fail.” 

“Yes, you fail because you keep yourself; but 
when God keeps you he never fails. Aunt Mary 
says that if he can keep in their proper places tlie 
stars that will sometime cease to shine, he can also 
keep us in our right places.” 

“ I believe that; but if God has something nice for 
me why doesn’t he give it to me, when he knows 1 
want it but don’t know how to get it ? ” 

“ You do know how ; you have only to ask and re- 
ceive. Mr. King said in one of his sermons that some 
people want to do their part and God’s too when they 
are trying to be converted ; they knock and then try 
to open the door of salvation themselves. You can re- 
ceive God’s forgiveness in just a moment ; you have 
just to take it from him as you would take this hand- 
kerchief from my hand. Being a Christian is saying 
Yes to Jesus every time ; then he will always say Yes 
to us, if it be his will to give us what we ask.” 

“ Well, May, if 1 should be a Christian, I don’t be- 
lieve I should ever be as good as you are. You know 
so much about God and the Bible, yet you are so 
young. But I hope I shouldn’t be like some Chris- 
tians I have seen, and they live here in Brownville 
too. They do things that I would not do.” Daisy as- 
sumed a careless air. 

“ Most Christians are liable to forget themselves 
and sin once in a while; but if they are true Chris- 
tians they will ask God to forgive such sins as soon 
as they realize they have sinned ; if these sins are not 
forgiven I don’t believe such people are Christians 


298 


Gems Without Polish. 


at all. But the Lord doesn’t want joii to be like these 
people, and you must not trouble about the mistakes 
you may make in the future. Why don’t you settle 
up those of the past ? ” 

I wish I could. I have asked God to forgive all 
my sins very many times since I Jiave been in the 
country, yet I don’t feel that he has.” 

Did you say anything about Jesus in your 
prayers ? ” 

“ 'No, 1 don’t think I did.” 

“But Jesus says, ‘I am the Way, tlie Truth, and 
the Life ; no man cometh unto the Father but by me.’ 
You remember we read that verse together the first 
morning that you were in Brown ville. You can’t go 
to heaven until you go to Jesus first to get ready for 
heaven, any more than Bess can go to grandma’s un- 
til she first goes to mamma to get ready.” 

“ I don’t see why I can’t go straight to God and get 
converted as well as by the way of Jesus. Of course, 
I would as soon become a Christian one way as an- 
other; I only ask this question because I want to 
know.” 

“You have sinned, and God, who is perfect, is an- 
gry with sinners every day. But he loves you with 
an infinite love, bad as you are. Jesus, his only Son, 
has lived in this wicked world and knows by human 
experience how hard it is to be good. He has known 
every temptation that comes to you, and when you 
mention his name in your prayers, his Father will listen 
to you for his sake. Jesus prays for ns all at the right 
hand of God’s throne. Mother, good as she is, would 
not have taken you into our home had you not come 
in the name of some person in whom she had confi- 


A Second Adoption. 


299 


dence. In another way, and yet not altogether dif- 
ferent, God receives you for Christ’s sake.” 

May talked very earnestly. She had long been 
praying for a chance to have a definite talk with Daisy. 
She felt that the right time had come. 

“ I don’t see why there should be just one way to 
go to heaven,” said Daisy. 

“ There needs to be but one way, and Jesus has been 
that way and taken away all the stumbling-stones so 
he can help us at every step. Papa once cleared up a 
path through our woods so that we could save half a 
mile by going to school that way. Johnnie was cer- 
tain that he could get to the school-house by going 
through the same woods but not in papa’s path. He 
got lost, and papa had to hunt a long time for him. 
When they found him he was ashamed to think he 
had not appreciated what papa had done for him 
enough to walk in the path. I think those who won’t 
go to heaven in the path Jesus has made for them will 
be lost.” 

“ O, I do want to be in the right path,” cried Daisy, 
nervously. “ But I have such a temper ! I never could 
fit myself to religion.” 

“That is just what Jeanie said to Mr. King one 
time, and he asked her if she fitted herself to her 
dresses. She answered no, the dress-maker fitted tlie 
dresses to her. He said, ‘ just so the Lord will fit 
your religion to you. ’ ” 

“ Pretty good. But I am quite sure I could not 
hold out.” 

“ You have no right to say that until you have tried 
it. You must be born again and will have a new dis- 
position. How do you know whether or not that new 


300 


Gems Without Polish. 


disposition can withstand your trials ? 0 Daisy, won’t 
you please be one of God’s children ? ” 

May looked searchingly at Daisy. She had never 
before put this all-important question to her friend, 
although she had never before passed so long a time 
in company with one unsaved without asking it. 

“I thought we were all God’s children,” answered 
Daisy, with an indifferent air which May could not 
explain. 

“In a certain sense we are. But Jesus is his only 
begotten Son, and the rest of us must be adopted into 
the family. I wish you would let God adopt you to- 
night.” 

“ How shall I lei him ? ” 

“ Just as you let Mrs. Burnham adopt you : by sim- 
ply saying Yes to him. W ill it not be as easy to speak 
of God as your Father as of Mr. Burnham ? You will 
take Christ’s name the moment you are adopted, as 
you took Mr. Burnham’s. Jesus will begin at once 
to prepare a place for you in heaven, as your new 
mother began, the first thing, to fit up this room for 
you. You will inherit God’s wealth as you will this 
farm.” 

“Well, May, I think I’ll try to be a Christian for 
your sake.” 

“ O Daisy, how sad Jesus must feel to hear you 
say that ! Why don’t you say you will be a Christian 
for his sake ? ” 

“ I suppose I must. But ’tis so hard to give up my 
will. May, won’t you tell God that I will say Yes?” 
Daisy drew a long breath. 

“He would much rather you would say it,” an- 
swered May, in her own calm manner. “You did 


A Second Adoption. 301 

not ask me to say Yes to Mrs. Burnham when she 
asked you to be her cliild.” 

But you know God better than I do.” 

‘‘ So did I know Mrs. Burnham better than you did ; 
you had only seen her three or four times when you 
said Yes to her.” 

‘‘ All right ; I wdll give myself right up.” 

The two girls kneeled. May offered a brief prayer, 
after which Daisy prayed : 

“ Dear heavenly Father, yes, I will be a Christian. 
Forgive all my past sins; make me just right, this 
very moment. Keep me, and take me to heaven when 
I die, for Jesus Christ’s sake. A men.” 

Bising from her knees she kissed May, and said : 
“ It is all settled now ; I feel such a burden gone. It 
was just asking and receiving. How easy it is to be- 
come a Christian ! ” 

“ It is very easy,” answered May. “ Perhaps that 
is why so many people are not Christians ; they can’t 
believe that asking is receiving. Isn’t it nice to think 
that you belong to God, and he belongs to both of 
us? We are sisters now, if we were not before, and 
Christ is our elder Brother. I am so happy.” 

“ So am I ; something seems to keep telling me 
that all my sins are forgiven. I don’t know what 
it is.” 

“ It is the Comforter that we read about in my ‘rest 
chapter.’ Just think ; Jesus says, ‘Where two or three 
are gathered together in my name, there am I in the 
midst of them.’ I am glad he said two or three 
instead of a great many. And he is here, and inter- 
ested in all w^e do. Why, Daisy, he will be more con- 
cerned about all your little affairs than Mrs. Burnham 


302 


Gems Without Polish. 


is. Last night, when Bess said her prayers, she told 
the Lord that she had broken her doll. She said, 
‘ Of course, Dod will feel solly for me.’ ” 

“ Dear little Bess ! It has made me feel so strange 
ever since I have been here to think the smallest chil- 
dren know more about God than I do. But I mean 
to learn all I can about him.” 

“ Grandpa says he has known Jesus for fifty years, 
and is just beginning to get acquainted with him. 
But it is now time to go to bed.” 

The two girls lay down to pleasant dreams. Surely 
“ the name of the chamber was Peace.” 


Wadsworth Castle. 


303 


CBAPTER XXL 

WADSWORTH CASTLE. 

“All houses wherein men have lived and died 
Are haunted houses. Through the open doors 
The harmless phantoms on their errands glide 
With feet that make no sound upon the floors. 

‘ We have no title-deeds to house or lands ; 

Owuers and occupants of earlier date 
From graves forgotten, stretch their dusty hands 
And hold in mortmain still their old estate.” 

Ohe pleasant afternoon in the earlj part of August 
the Knights and Lady’s-Delights were having a pic- 
nic in Dunlap’s Grove. On their way home they 
stopped to rest near the old haunted house, with which 
they were all familiar. 

“ I wish Ben Gray was here,” began Paul. “ What 
fun we had stoning the castle ! We wore soldier- 
caps and marched in real army fashion. We tried to 
see how many panes of glass we could break. Don’t 
believe you can find a single whole one — can you ? ” 

All looked up at the dilapidated building. 

“ It is too bad for a house to go to ruin like this,” 
observed Mildred. “Some of the poor city people 
would consider this a mansion. Jack Snow told me 
of some little chaps that used to sleep in dry-goods 
boxes.” 

“ I wish my folks had as good a home as this would 
make,” remarked Daisy. 


304 


Gems Without Polish. 


“But tlie old tiling is haunted/’ exclaimed Kay- 
inond. “ Every one is afraid to move into it. My 
grandfather did see a ghost in it once.” 

“ So did I,” cried Bee. “ Last winter when I was 
sliding in this very field I peeped in the window and 
saw a ghost.” 

“ Ha ! I know who that ghost was,” laughed 
Johnnie. 

“ Then you just tell me.” 

“ Say, boys, shall I ? ” 

The other Knights gave their consent. 

Johnnie gazed roguishly at his little sister, and 
said, “ Why, Bee, the ghost you saw was a snovv-man 
we fellows made. He was watchman of the castle, 
ha ha!” 

All laughed at the joke. 

“ But you can hear ghost noises in the house,” said 
Sadie. “ That Mr. Grosse, who used to live here, 
would beat his wife when he was drunk, and you can 
hear her crying at twelve o’clock every night.” 

“ Honsense,” exclaimed May. “ Ghosts ! why our 
country-weekers were the nearest to ghosts of any 
thing you can find ; they were so thin, so pale, so 
much like walking shadows that appeared nearly 
too weak to speak. If you want to hear the voices 
of ghosts you should have Jieard some of those poor 
girls and women weeping over tb<^ir sad lives, as I 
heard them. Aunt Mary says it is too late for peo- 
ple to cry over their mistakes and troubles after they 
are dead. If you boys are so eager to have your cas- 
tle filled with ghosts why don’t you fit it up as a 
summer-home for the poor people of Boston?” 

“ Let’s do it,” cried several at once. 


Wadsworth Castle. 305 

May was the calmest of the group. As the boys 
and girls drew closer to her, she said, “ Houses have 
been fitted up in this way. Don’t you remember 
Mrs. King told us of one of her friends who helped 
furnish a house for the country-weekers at Arling- 
ton?* It was as much as eleven or twelve years ago, 
when the Boston country-week had just been started. 
A number of women clubbed together and furnished 
the house for the guests instead of taking them into 
their homes.” 

“You remember the account of tlie cottage of Good 
Hope, that I read out of Lend a Hand at one of our 
meetings,” said Mildred. “ Well, that very article 
suggested tliat the children furnish a house for the 
poor just as Prince Wilhelm did. Most of us are in 
our teens, so, of course, we could do it — and let’s! 
Only this is such a shut-in place. Our guests would 
not like it as well.” 

“ We might move the house,” proposed Paul. 

“ So we might,” cried Frank ; “ but who owns it? ” 

“ The ghosts,” answered Sadie, rolling her eyes in 
horror. 

“ The Knights,” cried Frank. 

“ My father owns the land,” said Kaymond Dun- 
lap ; “ the house too ; but he could never rent it, folks 
were so afraid of the ghosts. He kept his hay in here 
one year. Let’s go through the house again.” 

All entered the building. Each nook and corner 
was examined as it had neVer been before. The floors 
were strewn witii fallen plaster and broken glass. 
In one corner was a heap of straw and old bagging 
that had served as a bed for some passing tramp. In 
*See Appendix, page 419. 


20 


306 


Gems Without. Poeiss. 


another corner a broken pipe and a few meat bones 
showed where he had lunched. In one room was a 
squirrel’s nest surrounded by acorn and chestnut 
shells. The house was surely “ ’aunted,” as the En- 
glish woman living at Mr. Dunlap’s said, not by 
ghosts, but by ants that were running by hundreds 
over the lower floors ! 

Time had had a rough dealing with the old house. 
Paper and plastering were sadly missing from most 
of the walls. Two of the windows were gone. All 
of the blinds had been removed and sold. The stairs 
leading to the second floor were almost unsafe to step 
upon. 

“’Twill cost so much to make repairs,” sighed 
Jeanie, as she looked around. 

“We boys will do most of the repairing ourselves,” 
said Frank, with an air that seemed to add ten years 
to his age. “ What we can’t do, we will get done by 
exchanging work with Mr. Day ; he understands 
joinering. We will look out for the men’s part of 
the fixing up. All you girls need do is to get 
the. curtains and tidies and pieces of cloth for the 
mantles.” 

“ It might be a good plan to have some furniture 
to go with our fancy work,” laughed Mildred. “ We 
have an attic full we can give away.” 

“ So have we,” cried several of the others. 

“ But the paint and glass and plastering will cost,” 
observed Philip. “Why don’t you girls get some 
money out of Hortense ? — charge her a membership 
fee for the honor of belonging to a club of country 
girls ! ” 

“ I am sure she will help us,” cried Lutie. “ She 


Wadsworth Castle. 


3U7 


is going to biij one less rose whenever she goes to 
any social gathering, so as to send some child to 
enjoy the wild flowers of the country. Of course 
she will give us her country-week money for this 
house. 

“ Guess you wont get much,” observed Will. 
“ Hoses don’t cost much.” 

‘‘ Hortie often pays from one dollar to a dollar and 
a half apiece for two or three roses, to wear just one 
evening. She thinks two roses will do as well as 
three, and some child could be sent to the country 
with the money that the third rose would cost.” 

‘‘ Why can’t we have a fair to lielp pay expenses,” 
suggested Hattie. “ We might have it in the house 
after it is all ready for its occupants.” 

The boys and girls were delighted with the idea. 
Some thought they ought to procure necessary funds 
before they did any thing in regard to the house. 
Others suggested that they borrow money from their 
parents and begin at once on their plans. 

But what would their parents say to such an en- 
terprise ? Would they succeed ? Would the pleas- 
ure thus afforded the country-weekers repay the labor ? 
These and many more questions were discussed by 
the boys and girls as they hastened home. 

Some of the parents were heartily in favor of the 
scheme. Others opposed it, presenting many objec- 
tions — the difficulty of securing a suitable place where 
the house might be moved, the cost of repairs, the 
trouble of furnishing, the lack of a suitable house- 
keeper, the doubtful deportment of the guests, the 
expense of feeding them. Even those who offered to 
assist their children in their enterprise believed pri- 


308 


Gems AYitiiout Polish. 


vate entertain meiit the easiest and cheapest method 
of keeping the conntry-weekers ; they also believed 
the moral influence of home life was what the poor 
guests most needed. 

Mr. King was quite entliusiastic over the move- 
ment. He stated that the repairing of the house 
would teach the boys many useful lessons, and the 
furnishing would be a good drill for the girls, who 
probably would found homes of their own some time. 
He was too wise to blight the zeal of the young in 
so noble a cause. His opinion settled the matter. 

Mr. Lovell offered to superintend the moving of 
the house. Dr. Murray would see that the house 
was plastered. He was glad of this excuse to settle a 
bill long standing with a mason at the village. Aunt 
Mary would supervise the furnishing of the house. 

Frank, being j)resident of the Knights, persisted in 
having a deed of the house. Mr. DunLip madoone 
out and presented it to him. 

AYliere should the old dwelling be moved ? The 
boys and girls took many a long tramp in search 
of a desirable location, seeming to think they might 
have any land desired, regardless of cost. The 
majority were in favor of a pleasant lot on Mr. 
Dickinson’s farm, not far from the present site of the 
house. The pond was near ; the view on every side 
delightful. 

“What shall we do?” exclaimed Paul one day. 
“We could get the land from any body else easier 
than from Mr. Dickinson. Any body else would give 
us the land. He would charge double price if he 
knew we wanted it for charity.” 

“ How do you know he would ? ” asked May. 


W ADS WOK I'll Castle. 


309 


“ Because fatlier says he is always fretting about 
tlie church, and never gives a cent toward missions or 
any thing else.” 

“ May be he has never been asked to give in the 
right way ; but if no one else will go to him I shall 
go and ask him for the land, as I would any one else.” 

“ Why, May,” exclaimed Mildred, ‘‘ you are as meek 
as a lamb, except when there is something to be done. 
Then you are the bravest of any of us. But it is 
hardly fair for you to go alone, Mr. Dickinson is so 
cross. Let’s go with her, girls— who will ?” 

Not one. But May went, and went alone. She 
found Mr. Dickinson weeding his garden. 

Good morning,” she began. “ Don’t you want 
some help ? ” 

“ Ah, it’s Lovell’s girl ! But this work would soil 
your leetle white hands.” 

“ O, no ; I would like to do it,” answered May, be- 
ginning the task. 

“Well, well, to think you should offer to do any 
thing for me ! I never done northing for you.” 

“ But you would if you had a chance.” > 

“You are right. I’d do any thing for you. I’m 
not a bear — if folks thinks I am.” 

“ O, Mr. Dickinson, don’t you imagine that people 
say a great many things about you which never come 
into their minds at all ? ” 

“May be so; but the church folks got down on me 
’cause one time Miss Haines asked me for five dol- 
lars for somethin’, and I tolled her I could only give 
her two. I was a-goin’ to send a ten-dollar bill to a 
poor sister o’ mine that very week, but I didn’t tell 
Miss Haines so, ’cause ’twas none o’ her consarn. But 


310 


Gems Without Polish. 


let any one ask a favor o’ me in tlie right way, and 
see if they won’t get it.” 

“ I have a favor to ask of yon. “ May felt her cheeks 
blush; she talked very fast.” We young people are 
going to move the old haunted house away from 
Dunlap’s field, and want to put it on your field, next 
to the grove, near the pond. It is for the country- 
weekers.” 

The fanner stopped work, leaned upon his hoe, 
and gazed at May. 

What ! move that skeleton of a house on to my 
land?” 

“Yes, sir,” answered May in rather an embar- 
rassed tone. 

“ But you’ve never said a word about how you are 
going to get the land. You women al’a’s goes to 
work backward ; but you generally gains your p'int— 
I fear you do.” 

“ Why, Mr. Dickinson, it is for you to say how we 
shall get the land.” 

“ I suppose you want the hire of the land, or the 
loan, or the right of way ? ” 

“ Yes, sir, that would do, if you think it would be 
better than for you to give us enough of the land for 
a house lot.” 

“ Give away a house-lot ? Phew ! Why, I could 
sell that land any day. Eight on the road too. The 
best building lot in town.” 

“ So we thought ; and now that you who own the 
field think so, we shall surely want this land. Mr. 
Woolridge has offered us a part of his meadow, but 
we have not accepted it yet.” 

“ You seem to take it for granted I am going to 


Wadsworth Castle. 3U 

give you the land.’’ Mr. Dickinson did not know 
whether to laugh or to scold. 

“ Certainly ; I told the boys and girls I was sure 
you would.” 

Well, nobody never put sich confidence in me 
afore. Have it ? Of coui*se you can have it ! Any 
one’s honor’s worth more than his land, hey ? ” 

“ O, Mr. Dickinson, I do thank you so much ! So 
will all the other boys and girls. I must go and tell 
them at once.” 

“ I s’pose they all said I was so stingy I’d not give 
up the land. Well, I’ll have a deed in a day or two, 
and make over the land to you — to none of the rest 
of ’em, remember. Well, good-bye ; drop in and see 
my woman sometime. She gets sort o’ lonely with 
only me for company.” 

“ Yes, sir ; and you must bring her over to our 
house to spend the evening. Good-bye.” 

May received a deed of the land within a week. 
Preparations were made at once to move the house. 
The Knights worked with a will. Mr. King and Dr. 
Murray each lent a hand, taking this occupation as 
their necessary daily exercise. Mr. Lovell and Mr. 
Jennings loaned their horses and oxen for the purpose. 
On the fourth day the house had reached its destina- 
tion. A rude under-pinning was constructed, which, 
however, did very well. 

The boys now began to make repairs under the di- 
rection of Mr. Day and Mr. Lovell. Hew steps were 
built ; the doors were re-hung ; glass was set in all 
the windows. Dr. Murray’s mason was on hand. 
Frank Bradley painted the inside of the house a 
light drab, and did tolerably well. Mrs. Kankin had 


312 


Gems Without Polish. 


sent a check of ten dollars, which went toward paying 
for lumber, paint, and window-glass. The cedar 
shingles, although very old, 'were in a remarkable 
state of preservation, so the hoys were disappointed 
concerning their intended shingling bee. 

House-cleaning was now begun under Aunt Mary’s 
supervision. Of course all the wood-work had been 
cleaned before Frank had attempted his painting, but 
there was still much to be done. A fire was kindled 
ill the large parlor fire-place, and water, which the 
boys brought from the pond, was heated in a huge 
kettle. The boys, who had borrowed their sisters’ 
aprons and tiers, swept the rooms and scoured the 
floors. The girls washed the windows. Fun? That 
was no name for it; and Aunt Mary was as jolly as 
any one. 

The Knights and Lady’s-Delights went to every 
family where they were acipiainted, and solicited old 
furniture for the house. Every few days the boys 
would go around with horse and wagon and gather 
chairs and bedsteads, bureaus, and all such things 
that could be spared. There were just ten rooms in 
the house — one apiece for the girls. They styled this 
summer home a tenement. 

Hattie Dunlap furnished the kitchen. Her father 
made a wooden sink for the room. Her aunt donated 
two wooden-bottomed chairs, and another friend an 
ancient table, which could be converted at pleasure 
into an arm-chair by turning over the top as a back 
to the chair. Mrs. King had promised to give her 
cook-stove in the spring, when she intended to pur- 
chase a new one. A few cheap pictures were on the 
walls, and paper curtains at the windows. Scalloped 


Wadswoktii Castle. 


313 


papers Jiad been placed on the slielves of the old 
dresser. The young people were saving their paper- 
rags to obtain tin dishes for tlieir house from the 
peddler. A few thus gotten were seen in the kitchen. 

Jeanie Murray offered to tit up the dining-room. 
The walls were literally papered with pictures — steel- 
engravings, lithographs, and chromos. At the win- 
dows were white cotton curtains on which pressed 
ferns and autumn leaves had been glued. Over the 
mantel was this motto : ‘‘ The Lord will provide.” 
Two square dining tables were in the room, also a 
novel side-board wdiich Dr. Murray had constructed 
out of an old-fashioned bureau. He had made a top 
to it with mirror, little shelves, etc., and had stained 
the side-board so that it resembled mahogany. The 
drawers were filled with old table-linen, bibs for the 
children, etc. A few hemp-bottomed chairs stood 
here and there, also several stools. 

In the hall was an old brass clock which had been 
a wadding gift to Mrs. Eoberts from her brothers. 
Eefusing to sell this heir-loom by reason of its asso- 
ciations, and having no children to whom to leave it, 
she was glad to give it to this home for the poor. 

Philip McBride had varnished a curious branch of 
willow and fastened it fo the wall for a hat-tree. 
Lutie had hung near by an ancient gilt-framed mir- 
ror. An old-fashioned lantern, punctured with myriad 
holes, was hung up as a hall lamp. Sadie Woolridge 
had braided a husk mat, which lay before the front 
door. 

The parlor Avas in May’s charge. The chief attrac- 
tion of this room was its fire-place, for which she had 
obtained brass andirons and fender. The high mantel 


314 


Gems Without Polish. 


was modernized by a tasty yet inexpensive lambrequin ; 
on this stood a pair of brass candlesticks, tray and 
snuffers, and two large blue vases. Several briglit 
rugs w'ere on the floor. At each window w^ere cheese- 
cloth curtains looped back by blue ribbons. In the 
center of the room was a table made from an old-style 
washstand. On each scallop of its brown felt cover- 
ing a lady’s'delight had been painted. On this was 
the family Bible, a cheap yet good-sized volume, the 
gift of Mr. King. In one corner of the parlor stood 
a clover-leaf stand. The- boys had made the top and 
furnished three broom-handles for legs. These were 
tied together with a gay ribbon. The other furnish- 
ings consisted of three straw-bottomed chairs, an arm- 
chair made from a barrel and covered with chintz, a 
wooden rocker for the babies, a hassock constructed 
from six tin cans tied together and covered with cre- 
tonne, and an antiquated desk still containing the writ- 
ing utensils that had been found in it — a sand-box, a 
cork inkstand, and three quill pens. Several orna- 
ments, yet not too many, adorned the walls, whose 
paper Mrs. King had furnished ; a few chromos, a 
large picture of Christ blessing little children, a spat- 
ter-work motto, “ God bless onr home a large lichen 
which served as a bracket; also several check pLicques, 
fancy fans, etc. On one of the doors Aunt Mary had 
painted a bed of lady’s-delights. 

Details cannot be given concerning the furnishing 
of the chambers. Suffice it to say that each did honor 
to those who had taken charge of it. The pleasantest 
room was Lutie’s. Mildred had chosen it, but after 
hearing Lutie say that the girls had left a back cham- 
ber for her because she was poor, insisted on exchang- 


Wadswokth Castle. 


315 


ing rooms at once. Hortense wrote that she would 
make some bedding and fancy work for her twin,” 
and her mother would bring some old furniture in 
the spring. Daisy fitted up a room for her mother 
and the children. She intended to go home and keep 
house for her father while tliey should take their va- 
cation. Estelle’s mamma helped with her room. 

None of the chambers were carpeted, but pretty 
rugs were abundant — braided rugs, knit rugs, hooked 
rugs, button rugs, and as many kinds of rugs as could 
be seen at a model county fair. Some of the walls 
were covered with manilla paper ; others were bare ; 
one was painted a light blue. The curtains and lam- 
brequins were of tissue-paper, cretonne, and cambric. 
The antique bedsteads, the maliogany bureaus, the 
beautifully carved chairs, and the ancient tables and 
stands, might have graced the chambers of the sum- 
mer homes of the most fashionable. 

Little bedding had as yet been solicited. The 
Lady’s-Delights had the promise of all the husks that 
miglit be obtained from every husking that was to 
take place that fall at Brownville ; and Mr. Parker 
had agreed to give straw enough to fill two beds. 
Tlie “ missionary hens” would fill the pillows after 
Thanksgiving. The girls would learn to sew up 
sheets and pillow-cases during the winter, and give 
more time than ever to their patch-work. Several 
families offered to loan their extra wfinter bedding, 
which they packed away during the summer months. 
Dr. Murray promised to send such bedding to the 
city in the fall to be renovated. 

Many of the nicknacks noticeable in a lady’s room 
were seen in these. The girls argued that the poor 


316 


Gems Without Polish. 


guests might become so accustomed to these little 
fineries during their visit as to introduce them into 
their own homes, thereby brightening these dull 
abodes. Therefore splashers, hair |)iii cases, comb- 
cases (made from birch-bark), fancy pin-cushions, 
sachet-bags, tidies, mats, etc., were plentiful. 

Aunt Mary helped Bee and Bess with the room 
which they two were to furnish. Bee would allow 
no picture to be placed therein ; but one afternoon 
she went alone to the house, crept in through a win- 
dow, and tacked to the walls of her chamber several 
dozen memorial pictures that had been left from a 
lot for which her father had canvassed twenty-five 
years before. The pictures thereon were all of one 
pattern : a green weeping-willow overshading a tomb- 
stone, near which a woman and child were standing. 
As Bee did not quite understand the use of these arti- 
cles, she had written her own name in each space un- 
der these words : Sacred to the memory of. After the 
last picture was tacked up she gazed at her achieve- 
with genuine admiration. 

The Knights and Lady’s-Delights had agreed to 
meet Mr. King at the house that very afternoon to 
make certain plans concerning the same. They found 
Bee in her room, and had a good laugh over her pict- 
ures, especially when they saw recorded for at least 
sixty times. Sacred to the memory of Mias Bee Lovell. 
Johnnie wanted to tear them all down at once, but 
Mr. King said that the rights of this little girl should 
be respected, and doubtless she could be induced to 
re-paper her chamber before it should be occupied. 

All now retired to the cozy parlor to consider sev- 
eral matters of importance. In the first place the house 


Wadsworth Castle. 


317 


needed a name. A box was passed to collect slips of 
paper bearing any appropriate name. “ Ice Palace,” 
(a pleasing name for hot days), ‘‘ Castle Garden,” 
“ Pine Cottage,” “ Kest Home,” ‘‘ Dickinson House ” 
(in lionor of the donor of the lot), ‘‘ Palace Beautiful,” 
and many other names were passed in and discussed. 

Paul Jennings proposed that they still call it The 
Old Haunted House, and put up the sign : Lodgings 
for ghosts. Plenty of air — their proper food.” Jeanie 
suggested that it be called the ‘‘Air Castle,” since its 
guests were coming for fresh air. 

“ Why shouldn’t the Lady’s-Delights have a ‘ Palace 
of Delight ? ’ ” asked Lutie. 

“ J ust the name for us 1 ” cried Hattie. “ The house 
will be a delight to scores. Wliere did you get that 
name? ” 

“ I have just been reading All Sorts and Conditions 
of Men. This story tells of such a lovely girl ! She 
went to live as a dress-maker among the poor tenants 
of her own houses in East London. She was sur- 
prised to see what few pleasures these people had, and, 
pretending that she was doing so at the request of an- 
other lady, she built them a pleasure house. She was 
helped in her enterprise by a rich young man, who 
also pretended to be one of the poor of these quarters. 
Hot until their ‘Palace of Delight’ was opened — in 
fact, not until they were married (as of course they 
were)— did they know each other’s true social posi- 
tions.” 

“ The best part of that story,” said Mr. King, “ is 
that it inspired the people of London to build a ‘Peo- 
ple’s Palace’ in that very neighborhood. The Prince 
of Wales laid the corner-stone and the queen was pres- 


31 S Gems Without Polish. 

ent at the opening recently. We have gone to work 
in a different way, gotten our palace first ; and when 
you are older one of you boys or girls must write a 
story about it, and perhaps some one will be induced 
to tit up a similar house. The ^People’s Palace’ is 
rather an expensive affair ; but I think that our humble 
farm-house, with its beautiful surroundings, offers the 
greater attractions. Our concert-room covers acres ; 
our concerts last day and night, and our sweet sing- 
ers were taught their songs by their Maker. Our 
picture-gallery is hung with nature’s choicest paint- 
ings — landscapes, flower-pieces, etchings, and rural 
scenes, ever new and ever changing. The books of 
our library are the unwritten pages of nature ; grass 
and flower, insect and bird, will tell their histories to 
our guests. Our dining-halls are the meadows, groves, 
and orchards ; our fruit and berries may be eaten as 
they are plucked, and our beverage is the clear water 
of the spring. The out-door games and recreations 
that we provide for our guests are more healthy and 
pleasing than those of any pleasure house. So you 
see that nature allows you boys and girls of the coun- 
try to offer to the city poor as much, even more, than 
the great men and women of London extend to the 
hundreds of unfortunates who gather at the People’s 
Palace.” Mr. King had grown so enthusiastic over 
his theme as to forget that a score of young people 
were eager to decide upon a name for their house. 

“ The Palace of Delight isn’t a good name at all,” 
burst out Will. ‘‘It’s too girlish. Poor folks wont 
feel at home in a palace. The Knights ought to keep 
the name of Castle for their house. Folks will for^cet 
we are Knights if we give it another name. .Miss 


Wadsworth Castld. 


319 - 


Lovell said that our castle would be a sort of hospital, 
like the one the Knights of Malta used to have ; of 
course, we’ll have some sick company. Our house 
must be a castle. Poor people would feel safe in a 
castle.” 

That’s so,” cried the other Knights, decidedly. 

“ A good idea,” said Mr. King. This castle will 
protect the poor from greater devastation than that 
caused by wars ; it will keep them safe, for a while at 
least, from sin, disease, foul air, want, and misery. 
But which shall it be ; a palace or a castle ? ” 

“ Palace,” cried the girls. 

“ Castle,” shouted the boys. 

‘‘Let’s give in to the Knights,” said May. “They 
have done so well all summer.” 

“Ko, I don't believe in humoring them,” answered 
Hattie. “’Twill make them selfish. 

Had not Mr. King been present a quarrel might 
have ensued, for both boys and girls had bad many 
disputes while the house was being fitted up. The 
names were voted upon, however, and tlie Knights got 
their name. 

“Let us call the house Wadsworth Castle,” pro- 
posed Mildred. 

“Ho! Harry Wadsworth was only freighting-clerk 
for some railroad,” said Frank. “ Castles are named 
for great men.” 

“But Harry Wadsworth’s name is known all over 
the world,” said Mr. King. “About twelve hundred 
societies have adopted his mottoes. If you name the 
castle for some great man the history of his life would 
not be so inspiring to the poor, ignorant guests as the 
simple story of Harry Wadsworth, who merely sought 


320 


Gems Without Polish. 


to brighten the world by doing all the kind deeds he 
could, l^early every thing that he did they can do.” 

So Wadsworth Castle it was. 

“ Great families that live in castles always have a 
coat of arms and a motto,” said Philip. ‘‘Why 
shouldn’t we?” 

“ The cross of Malta will be our coat of arms,” said 
Jeanie. “We girls will make a flag with a royal pur- 
ple cross on it, and, of course, our motto will be, ‘ In 
His Name;’ and we must not forget the Wadsworth 
mottoes — why, we can get every thing we need for 
our house — excuse me, boys — our castle — if we ask 
for it ‘ in His name.’ That motto will be a real 
sesame. We want this motto hung up in the castle.” 

“ But the cross of Malta will tell what our watch- 
word is,” said May. “ I have thought of another 
motto — why can’t we have two ? I have been read- 
ing Miss Havergal’s dear little book that tells how 
precious it is to have our all ‘ kept for the Master’s 
use.’ You remember she heads each chapter with a 
verse of her beautiful consecration hymn. Now, why 
can’t our motto be, ‘ Kept for the Master’s use?’ and, 
since the Lord’s property never lies idle, may be our 
house can be used for some other purpose than a 
summer home — who knows ! ” 

This motto was adopted. 

May then read the following letter, which she had 
just received from the village of : 


“ , Mass., August 5, 1887. 

“ My dear Miss Lovell : I know you will excuse 
the liberty I take in writing when you learn that I am 
one of ‘ The King’s Daughters.’ Our society has long 


Wadsworth Castle. 


321 


desired to extend greetings to the Lady’s-Delights. 
We regret that sister clubs living in adjoining towns 
should know so little of each other. 

“We have heard of the use to which you are putting 
one of the old houses of Brownville, and would like 
to give you for your summer work the funds which 
we generally contribute to the country-week, if such 
would be acceptable. We will also sell tickets in our 
place to your fair, of which we have also heard. 
There are so few entertainments here that I think 
quite a company would like to drive over to Brown- 
ville to said occasion; you may certainly count on 
‘ The King’s Daughters.’ 

“We generally do sewing at our gatherings, and as 
our work-baskets are now empty we can use our 
needles for you, either in doing plain sewing for the 
house, or in making fancy articles for the fair. We 
can solicit some old furniture for your summer home 
provided you send a team after it. 

“ Pray do not think me presumptuous in my offers. 
Our ten is eager for work, and there are very few 
poor families here for us to assist. If nothing pre- 
vents I will drive over to your home to-morrow and 
make plans. Yours, ‘in His name,’ 

“ Celia Baxter, 

President of The King’s Daughters. 

“ Miss May Lovell, 

“ President of the Lady's- Delights^ Brownville^ Mass." 

May was authorized to inform Miss Baxter that her 
offers were accepted, and to extend to her a vote of 
thanks from the Knights and the Lady’s-Delights. 
The fair and house-warming were discussed, then the 
company parted. 

21 


322 


Gems Without Polish. 


CHAPTER XXIL 

THE HOUSE-WARMING. 

Busy as tlie young people were with their home and 
school duties, tliey still found time to arrange for the 
house-warming at Wadsworth Castle. Of course, 
their older friends helped, yet most of the work fell 
upon them. By the first of October all preparations 
were completed. The hand- bills were out. Frank 
Bradley had printed them on his press. The boys 
distributed several hundred copies through Brownville 
and the village. They tacked them to trees, fences, 
school-houses, barns, and even to their wagons and ox- 
teams. Miss Rachel Andrews had helped the young 
people with these bills. We give a copy: 

Y® HOUSE-WARMING 

will be given by y® young men and wymmen of y® town of 
Brownville at 

Y« OLD HAUNTED HOUSE 
now known as 
WADSWORTH CASTLE 

on Tuesdaye afternoon & eveninge y® 21st daye of October, 
MDCCCLXXXVii (new style 1887), between y® hours of 2 and 
10 of y® clock, after which all lytes will be out. 

SUPPER 

will be eaten by all who are hungry whenever they wish it. 
Bill of fare: Baked beans, brown bread, doughnuts (twisted 
and new style), Indian pudding, ginger-bread, Johnny-cake. 


The House-W arming. o23 

baked apples, cheese, roast beef, chicken, squash-pies, pump- 
kin-pies, apple-pies, tea, coffee, lemonade, etc., etc. 

Y® Concerte 

will begin at earlye candle lyte. 

Programme. 

1. Song by every body, kept for y® Master’s Use. 
Hymn writ by May Lovell. 

2. Chapter in y® Old Testament, by ye goode Parson 
King. 

3. Prayer by y® same worthy Man. 

4. Sacred Harmony. 

5. Welcome, by Frank Bradley. 

6. Singing of a Worldlye Tune, by Hortense Louise 
Rankin, from y® great towne of Boston. 

7. Y® Cry of y® Children, writ by Elizabeth Barrett 
Browning, spoke by y® younge mayden. May Lovell. 

8. Playing on y® Little Fiddle (new style violin), by 

Celia Baxter, from y® village of . 

9. Y® Little Girl on y® Fresh-Air Fund, writ by 
Mary D. Brine, spoke by Estelle King, y® praiseworthy par- 
son's child. 

10. Y® St. Christopher Club, writ by M. A. L. (Mary 
A. Lathbury), read by Harriet Haines, y® learned school-marm 
of y® towne. 

11. Song, “ Y® Old Oaken Bucket,” writ by Samuel Wood- 
worth, sung by four men (new style, male quartette). Parson 
King, John Murray, Edward Parker, and Percy Day. 

12. Hannah Jane, writ by Petroleum V. Nasby, declaimed 
by Philip McBride. 

13. Y® Town and Country Child, writ by Allan Cun- 
ningham, read by Jeanie Holmes Murray. 

14. Music on y® Cornet, blowed by John Murray, y®good 
man who doctors y® bodies of y® people of y® towne. 

15. To A Butterfly seen in a Crowded Street, writ 
by William Pitt Palmer, read by Lutie Ann Moorhouse. 

16. Singing. Hortense Rankin, 


324 Gems Without Polish. 

17. Maud Muller, writ by J. G. Whittier, read by Sadie 
Woolridge. 

18. Y® Tramp’s Story, writ by Will Carleton, declaimed 
by Paul Jennings. 

19. Music on y® Little Fiddle— C elia Baxter. 

20. Samantha at Saratoga (a selection), writ by Josiah 
Allen’s wife (she don’t live here), read by Harriet Matilda 
Dunlap. 

21. Medley, by y® Sir Knights— Frank Bradley, chief 
Tymist. Ye players will play on Jew’s-harps, accordions, and 
harmonicas. 

22. Nature’s Call TO y® City Children. Sixteen poems 
(new style, cantata), writ by Mary Ann Lovell, y® great rhym- 
ster of Brownville, set to music in y® song book, sung by y® little 
boys and girls of y® parish. 

23. America — S ung by all who know it. 

After y® concerte, y® house will be open to inspection. 

A MUSEUM 

of articles used by our forefathers will be shown. 

Molasses candy, corn balls, apples, fancy and useful articles 
will be for sale to all who can afford to buy them. Bring in 
your wallets “good measure, pressed down and shaken to- 
gether and running over.” 

******** 

Y® pockets of all y® young men and wymmen will be filled 
with tickets from now till y® time of y® house-warming. 
They may be had by paying a silver dime. Those of moderate 
appetites will find 1 5 cents a plenty to pay for their supper. 

All y® money given will be spent on y® old Haunted House, 
which y® young folks have moved onto Neighbor Dickinson’s 
land near y® pond, and fitted it up as a free summer tavern 
for poor people of Boston. 

N. B. — Y® young wymmen will wear y® garments of y® years 
gone by. 

N. B.— Y® people need not bring candles, as y® house will be 
well supplied with lyte. 

[Bradley — Printer.] 


The House-Warming. 


325 


Tuesday proved to be a pleasant day. School was 
closed for the occasion. So seldom was any sort of 
an entertainment given in Brownville or the neigh- 
boring towns that this fUe was well patronized. 
A hay-rick came from the village bringing The 
King’s Daughters and their friends. Other places 
also sent several parties, some to examine the house 
with the view of having one similar. Hortense had 
come from Boston to the house-warming. (She was 
the guest of Jane). 

The flag bearing the cross of Malta was fluttering 
above the castle. The interior was decked with ever- 
green trimming, clematis, wreaths of oak leaves and 
cedar, dishes of ferns, and bouquets of wheat and 
barley. Pumpkins, squashes, and cucumbers had 
been hollowed out to form “golden bowls and 
vases;” these were filled with the gay flowers of 
fall. Here and there was a cross of Malta made of 
evergreen. 

The tables in the dining-room were set with old- 
style dishes which had been loaned for the occasion. 
There were also other dishes very unique, gourd 
bowls, little flower-pots (new) for salt-cellars, a bright 
new dust-pan for a waiter. There were napkin-rings 
made of birch-bark, interlaced with ribbon. (Hor- 
tense had brought several dozen Japanese napkins 
from the city.) Bills of fare were written on sheets 
of birch-bark. On the sideboard were bouquets of 
old-fashioned flowers, also an old cow- bell — the din- 
ner-bell. 

The girls had done most of the cooking. All who 
partook of the dainties tried to guess who made them. 
The pot of beans that had no pork Avas laid to Jeanie. 


326 


Gems Without Polish. 


Tlie ample supply of raisins in the largest pudding 
seemed to indicate that Sadie had had a hand in the 
making of it. The doughnuts stuffed with cotton 
were voted to be some of Lutie’s fun. 

The waiters looked very pretty in their old-fash- 
ioned costumes — full skirts, puffed sleeves, silk aprons, 
white neckerchiefs, and neat lace caps. Hattie wore 
her mother’s wedding-dress, a figured muslin. When 
the girls were extra busy the gallant Knights tied 
aprons around their necks and waited upon the com- 
pany in fine style. 

In due time the lamps and lanterns with which the 
house was well provided were lighted. 

At eight o’clock all gathered in the parlor for the 
entertainment. A large log burning in the fire-place 
gave a genial appearance to the room. A temporary 
platform had been constructed. Extra seats had been 
brought in from neighboring houses. . 

Frank Bradley presided (Mr. King insisted that 
he should). Slips on which May’s hymn, “ Kept for 
the Master’s use,” had been printed were passed 
around. This was May’s first attempt at any thing 
of the kind. She did very well. It was sung to 
a familiar tune, in which every body joined, the 
accompaniment being furnished by the cornet and 
violin. 

Mr. King read an appropriate chapter from the 
Bible, then offered the following prayer : 

“ Heavenly Father, we are truly grateful for the 
privilege of meeting on so pleasant an occasion to 
dedicate this building to thee, the Friend of the 
friendless and the Father of the fatherless, the stay 
of the widow, the avenger of the oppressor. -We 


T H E H OUSE- W ARMING. 


32T 


approach tliee to-night in that name by which alone 
all can come into thine awful presence, even the 
name of thy Son, Christ Jesus. 

“We praise thee that thou didst ever put it into 
the hearts of these young people to fit up this home 
for thy unfortunate ones. We thank thee for the 
success thou hast given so far. Grant them still 
greater success in the future. Fill them with all the 
grace and wisdom they need. May these boys be 
true Knights of the Cross ; may they go forth to con- 
quer, not by power and by might, but by thy Spirit. 
May these girls be true women, a delight to thee ; 
then must they be a delight to all. May these young 
men and women be honored pillars of thy temple 
eternal in the skies. 

“ Bless the many friends who have assisted in this 
noble work ; forbid that any of us should seek other 
reward from our labors than the pleasure of those 
who are to be received within these walls. 

“ It gives us great comfort to know that thy holy 
Son chose a life of poverty that he might plead the 
cause of the poor; to remember that he loved to 
roam the fields of Galilee, not unmindful of the 
beauties of nature, and that he taught in the open air 
and went apart in the mountain alone to pray. 

“ Bless those who shall be here received as guests. 
Let them feel that they have a Friend in the same 
Jesus who is ever mindful of their hardships. Like 
him may they read thy love and tenderness in the 
fiowers and trees ; like him may they seek the solitude 
of nature to hold communion with their God. As 
they shall gather here may they look up to a smiling 
PrQvidence, and not down to a frowning world ; may 


328 Gems Without Polish. 

they look out on tli^ pleasant surroundings, and not in 
at their own sad hearts ; may they look forward to the 
many mansions that await them in the sinless heaven, 
and not back to the dreary homes they have left in a 
wicked city ; may they lend a hand to one another, 
feeling that even they make this world the brighter. 
Bless them now, lighten their burdens, and give them 
grace to bear their troubles. 

“ May this home be ever kept for the Master’s use ! 
May its inmates feel they are in their Father’s house, 
where there is bread enough and to spare. 

“ Bless all who are here gathered. Grant us an 
enjoyable evening. Accept our prayer, and save us 
finally, for the love of Christ, and in his name. 
Amen.” 

The entire programme was carried out admirably. 
Few mistakes were noticeable. The cantata, beiiiir 
original, was especially appreciated by the country 
folks, who considered Aunt Mary a real genius. Its 
purport was this. Eight or ten little girls represented 
each some object of nature — a bird, flower, brook, 
butterfly, etc. A child sang a solo calling the poor 
children of the city to its woodland haunts, after 
which came a chorus response from the little people 
representing the country children. Most of the little 
girls were less than ten years old. Many of them 
came from the village. All wore white, and looked 
as sweet as the flowers and birds of which they sang. 

The museum of antiquities was exhibited in the 
room off the parlor, which had not yet been com- 
pletely furnished. Here was a fire-place with all nec- 
essary appendages. Grandma Woolridge had taught 
the girls the methods of primitive cooking, which 


The House-Warming. 


32D 


they were now putting into practice. Mildred was 
baking bread in an old baker before the fire. Sadie 
was broiling meat on an ancient toaster. Lutie was 
turning the “jack” of a tin kitchen in which a piece 
of beef was roasting. 

Miss Hachel Andrews was present, spinning on a 
large wheel. Grandma Woolridge was at work on a 
little flax-wheel. The boys and girls took samples of 
the wool and flax as mementos of the evening. Mrs. 
Haines was carding. An old lady from the village 
was reeling. Hattie Dunlap, who was dressed up as 
“ grandma,” with shoulder-cape, lace cap, glasses, etc., 
was sitting in an antique corner-chair, knitting and 
making use of the knitting shaft. 

The old ladies and gentlemen explained the uses of 
the various articles displayed. Many stories they had 
to tell of the foot-stools and snuffers, candlesticks, 
knee-buckles, snuff-boxes, tinder-boxes, samplers, pro- 
file pictures, flax combs, ancient hair-combs, flint-lock 
pistols, harness needles, the curious dishes and mir- 
rors, and the rare books, maps, and portraits that 
were to be seen. The admission to this room was five 
cents. 

The fruit and home-made candies for sale in Hat- 
tie’s room tempted many a dime from the pockets of 
the company. 

The sale of fancy articles was in Jeanie’s room. 
As the girls had sought to make what was useful and, 
at the same time, inexpensive, nearly every thing sold 
readily. There were aprons, sweeping-caps, knit- 
slippers, edgings, pillow-shams, broom-cases, holders, 
cup towels, dish-cloths, pen- wipers, ' pin-balls, paper 
flowers, sachets, mats, tidies, handkerchief-holders, etc. 


830 


Gems Without Polish. 


The King’s Daugliters had bronglit several wall-pock- 
ets made of toasters interlaced with ribbon ; also a 
half-dozen purple plush tidies in the shape of the 
cross of Malta, on which white lilies were painted. 
Hortense had mounted a number of thermometers on 
cases of the same shape. The boys had made picture- 
frames, brackets, card receivers, wall-pockets, etc., 
with their fret-saws. 

Bee charged an admission fee of two cents into her 
room— the Bee-hive, as she called it. The memorial 
pictures caused much laughter ; so did her doughnut 
bangles which hung from the mantel. 

As the company examined room after room and 
saw how tastily every thing was arranged, they prom- 
ised to donate many more articles. All declared that 
the boys and girls of Brown ville were real geniuses ; 
and Mr. King observed that the furnishing of the 
house had 'been an excellent means of developing 
their inventive faculties. The shelves and closets 
which the boys had placed here and there to lessen 
the task of the housekeeper, and the original ways in 
which the old furniture had been remodeled and 
beautified, were certainly praiseworthy. 

One of the most pleasing features of the evening 
was its sociability. 

A group of old ladies had gathered around the 
bright fire in the parlor. 

‘Mf this don’t remind me of old times!” besran 
Grandma Chase. “This isn’t one of yer modern 
stiffables. It does me good to be with young 
people.” 

“ Me, too I ” croaked an old lady from the village. 
“ Folks was so sociable in my day. If company came 


The House-Warming. 


331 


in at nine o’clock at night we would kill a chicken 
and cook and eat it, and make merry till midnight. 
That was the time before folks took to lucifer matcli- 
es. How sensible for these children to have brown 
bread and beans for supper instead of victuals you 
feel sure will half kill you ; for they have such high- 
sounding names. I seed ’em in a restaurant, and they 
was labeled like p’ison is. That Jennings boy baked 
his pot of beans in the ground, and the girls baked 
theirs in the old brick oven in the kitchen to this 
house. Good, wa’n’t they ? ” 

Beautiful ! ” answered Mrs. Barker, Lutie’s aunt. 

I knew the young folks would succeed. I give ’em 
all my heirlooms; my children don’t care nothing 
about them. But they don’t take this from my side 
of the house. It was terrible to- think of the belong- 
ings of my family going into the hands of strangers ; 
but now they’ll do some good to the Lord’s poor, 
and the doctor’s darter assured me she’d see they 
waren’t all banged up. That claw-legged bureau you 
see in her room was brought over in the Mayflower 
by my great-grandfather ; he died less than a hundred 
years ago.” 

‘‘You don’t say so!” exclaimed Grandma Chase. 
“Well, I gave all my old traps to my nephew’s 
wife. She put my flax- wheel in the parlor with all 
her nice fixings. She’s a smart one; has made a 
power o’ her husband ; he sweeps every thing afore 
him. But she is the handle that does the pushing. 
What’s the use of a broom without a handle ? Are 
you going to give any thing to this house. Sister 
Barker ? 

“I’ve not much to give ; but I told Brother King's 


332 


Gems Without Polish. 


little girl Pd give her a root of ‘bugarnont’ and some 
China aster seed for the garden. How warm this 
fire is ! ” 

“ So it is ! ” answered Grandma Chase. ‘‘ Will jou 
believe it — one of those city chaps that stopped 
near us said the only heat his folks had for a whole 
week last winter was what came from their neigh- 
bor’s fire in the room below ! You see, the same 
chimney ran through both rooms.” 

The old ladies drew their capes closer around them, 
moved nearer to the fire, held out their hands to the 
flames, and sighed at thought of the sad fact just 
related. 

“ What do ye think of the country-week ? ” asked 
the old lady from the village, after a while. 

“ Rather a common-sensible thing,” replied Mrs. 
Barker. “It sort o’ gets the city children and the 
country children used to each other. When our boys 
and girls hears of saloons and gambling-houses and 
such things from folks that lives near ’em, they’ll 
be on their guard when they go to the city. You 
should have seen a little fellow from Boston pull up 
his sleeve to show the scars on his arm a drunken 
father had put there.” 

“ O, dear ! ” exclaimed Grandma Chase ; “ it is ter- 
rible. One shrinks from the sights and sounds of such 
sorrow. But so long as it is in the world the Lord 
certainly means that we should know of it and do 
what we can to relieve it.” 

“I’ve never knowed the young folks o’ Brownville 
to do so little giggling and fooling as they did this 
summer ; ’cause they had the country-weekers to take 
up their minds. There is nothing like industry for 


The House-Warming. 333 

straightening one out, especially when it is coupled 
with good-heartedness.” 

At ten o’clock the company at the castle separated. 
All the refreshments had been sold ; nearly all of the 
fancy articles, also ; for so seldom was there a fair in 
the place that the Brown ville people were in need of 
many little things wliich they did not care to make, 
but would gladly purchase. Every thing not sold 
was given to the house. The proceeds of the house- 
warming exceeded all expectation. 


334 


Gems Without Polish. 


CHAPTER XXIIL 

AN UNEXPECTED CUANUE. 

“ My home is where my mother is.” 

May had gone over to Mrs. Burnham’s to stay all 
night with Daisy. The two girls w’ere sitting at the 
window watching the sunset that spanned the western 
sky like a gorgeous rainbow. 

‘‘ I wish mother could see these beautiful clouds,” 
began Daisy. I feel selfish to be here just enjoying 
myself when she has such a dull life. You can hardly 
understand.” 

“ But she wrote that she was glad to have you here ; 
and think of the nice times we are to have this win- 
ter ! I shall have to make all my Christmas presents 
in this room, for Bee finds out every thing, and runs 
and tells. Just think — tlie Christmas-tree at the cas- 
tle ! Then we boys and girls make valentines every 
year and throw them ourselves. It’s lots of fun. 
There are the June-boxes, too. Grandma told us how 
to arrange them. We fill fancy boxes with flowers, 
home-made candies, and any little gift, then hang 
them up at night, just as some people hang May- 
baskets.” 

‘‘I might send a June-box to mother,” exclaimed 
Daisy. Just think, I’ve not seen her since leaving 
home for the country-week, over three months ago ! 
I really meant to have gone liome before this, but 
I have been so busy with school.” 


An Unexpected Change. 


335 


“ Miss Haines told Aunt Mary that she thought you 
would be able to go into one of the higher classes of 
the grammar school in a year or two. Then we can 
walk to the village together every morning. I have 
two more years in the high-school. What makes you 
so nervous, Daisy ? ” 

‘‘ I — I have half made up my mind to go back to 
mother.” Daisy tried to keep the tears back, but they 
would come. 

“ Why, what do you mean ? ” 

‘‘I mean that I have nearly decided to be Daisy 
Dow again. Mother needs me so much. Myra has 
to give up her school to take care of the babies. She 
is too young for such a care. O, dear ! ” and Daisy 
laid her head in May’s lap and sobbed aloud. 

May stroked her friend’s head in her own soothing 
way. ‘‘ Don’t feel so bad,” she said. “ You may 
think different to-morrow. Mrs. Burnham could not 
give you up ; neither could I.” 

“ I know it would seem as if I did not appreciate 
Mother Burnham’s kindness, but I — I love my own 
mother the most. Yet 1 never knew how much until 
I was separated from her. She has taken extra wash- 
ings many a time to buy me a new dress, and has gone 
without her supper that I might not go to bed hun- 
gry. She has stood between father and me when he 
was intoxicated, and received the blows that were 
meant for me. She did not sleep for a single night 
when I was sick, but just stood over me for a whole 
week. O May, she would be as pleasant and patient 
as your mother if she hadn’t so much trouble. There 
are the work, and the sick babies, and father, and al- 
most nothing to buy the very necessities of life. My 


33G 


Gems Without Polish. 


old home is a poor one, but mother is there, and she 
is every thing.” 

Why couldn’t you go home once in a while and 
help your mother, then come back ? ” suggested May, 
cautiously. 

“I have thought of that; yet, if I once go home, 
I fear I should pity mother so much that I could never 
leave lier again. Chester has finished his work at Mr. 
Parker’s, and is going home to-morrow. I think I had 
better go too. He is to give half of his wages toward 
the rent, and here I am doing nothing at all for 
mother.” 

“ But she said in her letter that she was glad to have 
you away from the wicked city.” 

“ Yes, but I wasn’t a Christian then. If I go home 
now I shall take Jesus with me. He will keep me 
from harm. I want to tell mother about him. She 
needs his love if any one does. Then it will be easier 
for me to take care of the children now that he has 
made me more patient and gentle. I have been think- 
ing of going home for a week or two, but have not 
dared to mention the subject to Mother Burnham, for 
fear she might say I should not go.” 

“ She surely will say so ; that is, unless you let the 
subject drop right here.” 

“ I wish I could. I can’t bear to think of leaving 
this beautiful home, but my poor, tired mother is on 
my mind all the time. But if I go home I can’t take 
any more lessons on your organ ; I meant to fit my- 
self for a music-teacher and buy a little farm for our 
folks some time. Now, if I stay here and let them 
suffer for a few years at home it will be for their best 
good in the end ; wont it ? ” 


An Unexpected Chancre. 337 

May smiled. “ Perhaps your jnother needs you 
now more than your money in the futiii*e.” 

“ So 1 have thought ; but vvliat would you do if you 
were in my place ? ” 

“ If I had the reasons for going home that you have 
just mentioned I suppose I should go at once, althougli 
a fevv moments ago I should have advised you to 
stay.” 

. “ But it is so hard to give up my school and music 
and all the good times at the castle. If I wasn’t a 
Christian it would not take me long to say I’d not go 
back.” 

“Even Christ pleased not himself,” repeated May, 
very softly. 

Daisy lifted her head from May’s lap and remarked, 
“ If I make this sacrifice mother will surely know 
that I am a Christian. Yes, it is like Christ not to 
please yourself — but O, so hard ! ” 

“ And it is hard for me to think of losing you. But 
let us ask Jesus about it. I wont advise you either 
to go or to stay until I know what his will is.” 

The two friends kneeled by the open window, and 
as the parting beams of day fell upon them, prayed 
over the matter, then repeated the Lord’s Prayer in 
unison as they had done once before. 

As they arose, Daisy exclaimed, with a bright smile, 
“ O May, I am going back to mother. I had to say 
Yes, I would, before I could pray ‘ Thy will be done.’ ” 

“ O, you darling,” cried May, throwing her arms 
round her friend. “ I am so glad — and so sorry too. 
We ought to have let Jesus into our plans the first 
thing.” 

“We should. If T cnn’t cnll Mr. Burnhain fj^ther 


338 


Gems Without Polish. 


any longer I can always go to our heavenly Father. 
But how I shall miss tlie meetings, and our talks in 
this room ! I shall lose all the rides and picnics and 
the visits we were to make. And I can’t be a Lady’s- 
Delight any longer.” 

“ Yes, you can. You may do better if transplanted, 
and must start a Ten at home.” 

“ I never could ; the girls in our tenement are so 
different from you. I shall now dread to be with them, 
yet I used to think they were very fine.” 

“ Form your own family into a Ten.” 

“ Perhaps so. O May, if 1 only could take ‘ cozy 
corner’ with me. I shall never have a quiet hour or 
place to myself at home in which to pray or read my 
Bible. I shall give up this soft bed for the hard mat- 
tress. The noise in the street will wake me instead 
of the singing birds. I almost wish I had never come 
to the country.” 

‘‘ Then you would have never known me, or Jesus 
either.” 

“ Sure enough ; and I have some idea of the way 
Jesus felt wdien he left his Father and the angels in 
his home among the fields of heaven to come to this 
wicked world. But he found a mother here, and that 
is all I shall find in my poor home. Father is so dif- 
ferent from Father Burnham, and our neighbors are 
so unlike the pleasant country people. O May, you 
have no idea of the way I shall be treated at home.” 

‘‘But you can come back to ‘cozy corner’ every 
summer. It will still be your room, and nothing need 
be disturbed. And your mother and the children will 
be at the castle. Bat when are you going to tell your 
Mother Burnham ? ” 


An Unexpected Change. 


339 


O, I can’t tell her. She has done so much for 
me. I am afraid slie will say so much against my go- 
ing that I shall change my mind. You must tell her 
all, but not until I have sent a letter to mother. Then 
there’ll be no backing out. You will tell her, wont 
you ? ” 

“ Yes, dear ; but we have not read our evening chap- 
ter. Suppose we take the one we first read together 
from my Bible in my room, that first morning after 
you came, while we were watching the sunrise.” 

“ Yery well,” answered Daisy. We will now read 
it for the last time together, from my Bible, in my 
room, as we watch the sunset, and think that I must 
go away to-morrow. These are the words Jesus spoke 
when he was about to leave this world. I wonder 
what he said when he left heaven to come here.” 

“ It’s not necessary for us to know, since we, unlike 
him, shall never have to leave heaven after we are 
once there. Ah ! Daisy, when you have one of the 
‘ many mansions ’ you wont have to leave it as you do 
his room. Every home will be a happy home there.” 

“ I don’t care for a ‘ mansion ’ in heaven. I shall be 
content with one little room just like this, that I can 
fix up with flowers and pictures and just enjoy.” 

“Now I really think we can have our heavenly 
homes just filled with every thing we want,” said May, 
enthusiastically. “ I believe we can sit by the win- 
dows and see fairer landscapes than this, and perhaps 
can invite our friends to see us.” 

“ There, May ! you do think of such strange things. 
Well, I hope I can have trees near my windows there, 
as I have here. I shall speak for a flower-garden too, 
and for you as my bosom friend. I don’t know but 


340 Gems Without IVjlish. 

tliat I would like a mansion after all. Think I’ll 
have inj furniture of the shades there are in this sun- 
set. What rich green and purple and crimson! And 
I would like my curtains to as soft and white as 
those downy clouds.” 

Daisy was in better spirits than she had previously 
been that evening, as she opened her Testament to the 
fourteenth chapter of John and read the sweet w’ords 
she had lately learned to prize and the many promises 
she had claimed and received. The chapter now pos- 
sessed new charms ; it was as if she had never read it 
before. 

As the chapter was finished the sun had sunk be- 
low the horizon, and the clouds had lost their gorgeous 
tints. The girls drew their chairs up to the table. 
Daisy lighted a lamp and wrote to her mother. She 
then stated her purpose to pack at once, before she 
had a chance to give up her intention of going back 
to the city. 

“Will you take your pictures and fancy- w’ork ?” 
asked May. 

“ I think not. There is no place for them at home 
at present. The children might destroy them. How 
I shall miss ‘ cozy corner ! ’ Every thing here has a 
story to tell of somebody’s kindness to me ; and this 
room was where I found my Saviour. I will pack 
my clothes and books to-night.” 

This done, the two girls lay down to sweet rest. 
The next morning Daisy hailed Philip McBride on 
his w^ay to the village and sent her letter. She then 
told Mr. and Mrs. Burnham every thing that had 
been done. They thought her only in sport, until 
May persuaded them to the conti-ary. They tried to 


An UxNexpected Change. 311 

induce her to rdinain on promise of an organ and a 
weekly visit to the city. But no ; her heart was set 
on going, and her kind friends soon decided it was 
of no use to seek to influence her otherwise. Mr. 
Burnham vyished her to still retain his name and to 
spend a part of her time at his home. 

When Chester heard of her plans he exclaimed : 

“ Well, I never ! ]^ow, Dais, I’m sorry to have 

you miss the good times, but I’m glad you are going 
home with me. Was just thinking what could I do 
without you ! ” 

‘‘ I’m so glad to hear you say that. I did not know 
that you cared so much for me.” 

“ Neither did I till I came to the country ; but 
you’ll have a farm to live on when I am a man — just 
remember that ! ” 

The forenoon was passed in making farewell calls 
on the Lady’s-Delights, all of whom were “ quite 
shocked ” at the news. 

Miss Haines offered to give Daisy private lessons 
by mail, and supplied her with necessary books. Mr. 
King wrote an introductory letter to one of the city 
pastors, whose Sunday-school he wished her to attend. 

Bee and Chester were taking a farewell chat on the 
piazza. 

“ Are you sorry I’m going home ? ” he asked. 

“ Not very, ’cause I’ll have a chance to write to you 
now.” 

“ I’m going to have you come to Boston to see me. 
I will give you a ride in the horse-cars — pay your fare 
too.” 

“ I just guess I’ll pay my own fare. Do you s’pose 
I’m so poor as to have you pay it ? ” 


U2 


Gicms Without Polish. 


“Then I’ll buy you a bag of peanuts and give 
you the bag to burst. I think you are ‘ real 
cunning.’ ” 

‘‘ I should think ’tvvas funny if you didn’t think 
so.” 

“ Johnnie said your face was as brown as a potato 
and your nose looked like a little turn-up toadstool, 
but I don’t think so. If you was in Boston the fel- 
lows would say you was iny girl.” 

“ I’m not. I’m my mamma’s girl. She don’t ’low 
me to talk ’bout such things. ’Tisn’t nice for little 
girls. She says ’twill make ’em grow up too soon, 
and they’ll not want to talk ’bout sensible things. If 
you have beaux when you’re little ’tisn’t so much fun 
when you are big. But Aunt Mary has a beau, and 
she belongs to the Church ; so there ! ” 

“ Your mother told you to be natural, and it seems 
sort of natural for you to talk about the boys.” 

“ That’s not the kind of natural she means. She 
didn’t like it when big folks asked me about my beaux, 
and when all the little boys kissed me at the party 
and Willie Chase went home with me.” 

“ I don’t either ; but I’d like to kiss you good-bye, 
and I will.” 

He did. 

The blood rushed to Bee’s face ; she stamped her 
foot and exclaimed : 

“You unproper boy! My mamma don’t ’low the 
boys to kiss me, only the little tinty-tointy ones in 
dresses.” 

“ I — I wore dresses till three years ago. I had to 
wear out Daisy’s old ones, but I never wore her 
tiers.” 


An Unexpected Change. 343 

O dear, I can never get that kiss off my cheek,” 
sighed Bee. 

“ I can.” 

“ How ! ” 

“ Why how do you take any thing off any thing ? 
How do you take your hat off the hat-tree ? ” 

“ The same way I put it on.” 

“ Then I’ll take the kiss off the same way I put it 
on.” 

Bee laughed and let him do so. 

‘‘ When I’m a man,” said Chester, “ I’m going to 
give you a ride in a double-seated team, so you can sit 
on one seat and I on the other.” 

And I’ll sit on the front seat and drive, and wear 
my blue dress all bounded with gold braid ; but we 
wont let Aunt Mary go, ’cause she and Mr. Adams 
wont take me to ride with them. I wouldn’t go to 
ride with a man that was ashamed to take a little girl. 
Aunt Mary makes me wear my best clothes when he 
comes, but she don’t dress up when the little boys 
come to see me. Chester, why don’t you give me a 
ride pretty soon ? I haven’t quite made up my mind 
whether I shall grow up or not. I don’t think big 
folks have much fun.” 

“ I wish you’d give me one of your curls,” said 
Chester. 

“ I will ; but let me take your little glass to see 
which of them I can spare.” Then, looking in the 
pocket-glass Chester passed her, she said : “ You can’t 
have that top curl, for it grew first.” 

Didn’t they all grow at the same time ? ” 

‘‘ I guess not ; for Bess’s teeth did not grow all at 
once. You can’t have the curl back of my ear — that 


344 


Gems Without Polish. 


is papa’s — but you may have the one next to it. I’ll 
get the shears for you to cut it off, and give you my 
napkin-ring box, pink cotton and all, to keep it 
in.” 

After these articles had been brought and Chester 
had ^ut off the curl very carefully, “ so as not to 
hurt,” he exclaimed : 

“My, don’t this curl twist pretty, and isn’t it 
yellow ! ” 

“ It don’t twist ; it curls,” cried Bee, indignantly. 
“ It isn’t yeller ; it’s golden.” 

“ Yes, it is golden. O Bee, I love you lots ! ” 

“ I love you the most.” 

“You don’t.” 

“I do.” 

“ E'ow, Chester Dow, I do love you better than you 
love me ; if you say I don’t I’ll — ” 

Here Mrs. Lovell appeared and said : 

“ Come, darling, mamma wants her little girlie to 
have her nap. I’ll rock you to sleep in my arms.” 

When Bee was alone with her mother she said : 

“ O mamma, I do wish you would not talk baby- 
talk to me when Chester is round I ” 

May soon joined Chester. 

“ I am sorry to have you leave us,” she said, “ but 
I shall always pray for you, and you must remember 
that Jesus will always be your Friend.” 

“ Of course he likes good people, but I’m so rough 
he wont care for me. I’m always kicking round in 
every body’s way.” 

“ Yes, he will, just as Bess thinks as much of her 
rag-doll, that is always on the floor, as she does of 
her beautiful wax-doll. But of course I don’t mean 


An Unexpected Change. 


345 


to compare you to the rag-doll, for I think you are 
as good as any body.” 

“ O May, you are so good that no harm can ever 
come to you. No boy could say a swear word before 
you.” 

“ I would hope that the boys would have more 
fear of God than of me. He can always hear them 
swear.” 

“ They sha’n’t swear when you come to see us. 
You can’t help finding our house; it’s the only door 
in the alley that has a bell. There’s- a sign out that 
says, ‘Jack Dow, Jobber of all Trades.’ But no one 
comes to get him to do any thing. I s’pose they 
think he is busy all the time if he knows all trades. 
I’ll fix up if you’ll let me know when you are com- 
ing ; but then you aint proud.” 

‘‘ I would as soon visit you in a tenement as in a 
mansion if you are always an upright boy ; and God 
can keep you good all your life.” 

“ Yes ; but it makes me feel so nervous just to think 
about religion. I don’t know what I should do to 
have it ’round me all the time — to be a Christian I 
mean.” 

May laughed. 

“ But you won’t feel nervous at all after you have 
given your heart to Jesus. You will then be safe. 
There is one thing I want you to promise me ; that is, 
to repeat the Lord’s Prayer every night and morning, 
and to read a chapter in your Testament every day.” 

“ Yes, I’ll promise. I’ll do any thing for you, you 
are so good to Bee.” 


346 


Gems Without Polish. 


CHAPTER XXIY. 

HOME. 

“ Be it ever so homely, home is home.” 

As Daisy’s letter had not yet reached home, all 
were surprised as she entered the room with Chester. 

After the greetings Daisy told of the sacrifices 
made for her mother’s sake. Tlie poor woman was 
quite overcome hy the love of her child. 

“ Pve missed you more than once,” she said, “ for 
the babies have all had a sick turn. I hardly know 
you, your cheeks are so plump and red. You are 
my Rosy now instead of my Daisy.” 

“ Wish you had stayed away longer,” said Myra. 
“ I had your part of the bread and cookies while you 
was gone.” 

‘‘Did you?” laughed Daisy. “Well, you chil- 
dren get your hands and faces washed, then I will 
give you something.” 

“ Wish you had brought the country home with 
you,” observed Elmer. 

“We did bring a valise full of the country,” an- 
swered Chester. “ Let’s unpack.” 

The valise was opened while the little Dows (now 
with clean hands and faces) gathered around. 

“ Here is some evergreen I brought to trim up the 
house with,” said Daisy. “It wont wither for 
months, and you wont have to put it in water. May 


Home. 


347 


says she thinks God made it for poor people who can’t 
afford vases or flower-pots for their plants. Here is 
a bag of eggs for mother.” 

“ Do eggs grow in the country ?” asked Josie. 

“Yes;” answered Chester, “there are egg-trees as 
well as apple-trees ” — but Daisy gave him such a look 
that he immediately corrected his statement. 

Daisy opened a small box, and taking out a little 
ball of butter, remarked “ Chester churned this and 
I stamped it.” 

The children snatched the ball and passed it round 
for each to take a bite. They had been without butter 
for two weeks. 

Apples, acorns, chestnuts, tea-berry leaves, lichens, 
grasses, branches of cedar and pine, toys, and various 
other objects were unpacked and distributed among 
the little people. 

“ I brought this old screening to put up to the win- 
dows,” observed Daisy, “ and this box of sand to scour 
the knives and forks.” 

“ We are just going to shine here,” remarked Ches- 
ter. “ I’m going to have a pane of glass put in 
where father broke one out. Our door aint going to 
be off the hinges much longer, and if the landlord 
wont mend those old stairs, I will.” 

Daisy looked around on the dismal room and heaved 
a sigh. How could she have ever been contented to 
live here ? The darkness, the bareness of the walls, 
the general confusion of every thing, the filth, the 
offensive odor of the place, made her home-sick at 
home. 

“ Just as I thought,” exclaimed Mrs. Dow, in a 
sad tone. “ I knew if you went among fine people 


3^8 Gems AVithout Polish. 

you’d look down on your home and your poor old 
mother.” 

“ O no, mother dear, I shall make our home all the 
brighter for having been in a country home. I have 
brought a number of pretty pictures to tack up on 
the walls. Can’t we have a real house cleaning to- 
morrow ? We want that chimney fixed, so the room 
won’t be filled with smoke every time we build a fire. 
1 hope we can find a better rent soon. Ah, here are 
some things that May and Mother Burnham have 
put in for surprises. May’s Bible ! She must have 
put it in by mistake. I must send it right back. She 
would miss it for just one night. Here’s a note in it. 
I will read it to you.” 

“ Dear Daisy : You said you wished I could go 
to your home to help you to be good, but in place of 
myself I give you my Bible. 

“ Mother gave me this book when I was six years 
old. I learned my letters from it, and have read it 
through once a year ever since I was eleven years 
old. I would not trust my Bible with any body else. 
You well know what it was to me. May it ever be as 
much to you ! Please read a chapter every morning, 
noon, and night, as you did when at my home. I 
Avish you could teach to your little brothers and sisters 
the same verses I have taught to mine. They are 
marked with a black star. When Aunt Mary asked 
her class for what we should search the Scriptures, 
Bess answered ‘ For God.’ O Daisy, let us never for- 
get to look for God in our Bible. 

“ There is another use to which I want you to put 
this book. You know what I mean. And for Jesus’ 


Home. 


349 


sake, for the sake of joar dear ones, don’t fail to do 
this, no matter what it may cost you. Let me know 
how you have succeeded. 

“ Whenever you read this little volume pray for 
me, and remember that you will always have the 
prayers of your friend, May.” 

Daisy turned the leaves of the little book without 
speaking. She knew that Jesus was stamped upon 
every page. May seemed written there too. The 
promises she had marked, the foot-notes in her neat 
handwriting — those beautiful expressions of experi- 
ences that almost seemed a part of the inspired word 
— the favorite passages, the golden texts — all told of 
the sweet Christian life of this dear girl. 

This was the first Bible Daisy had ever read. The 
promises of this very book had led her to the blessed 
Saviour. She and May had passed many a pleasant 
afternoon sitting under the orchard trees and study- 
ing its golden truths. Yes, the next thing to having 
May was to have her Bible. But what could have 
induced her to part with her “ treasure ? ” Daisy 
lifted the precious volume involuntarily to her lips. 
Her tears fell upon the sacred pages. 

Ho one spoke. What did this new friend mean 
by asking Daisy to pray for her — Daisy, whom her 
mother had never taught to pray? Mrs. Dow looked 
searchingly at her child. 

“ O rnother, I have not told you the best part of 
my visit. It was something too good to write; I 
wanted to tell you all about it.” 

Tears came to the mother’s eyes. ‘‘ O Daisy, it is 
the old, old story, I suppose, and I am so glad.” 


350 


Gems Without Polish. 


“ Yes, mother, I have learned to love every one, 
and Jesus the best of all. That’s about all it is to be 
a Christian.” 

“ O, mother, you might have gone to meeting at 
Brown ville,” cried Chester ; worn a calico dress too, 
and folks would have shook hands with you just the 
same.” 

“ O, Chester, did you get good too ? ” 

“ Not ’zactly, mother. I’m rather young. I thought 
I’d look at religion in a business-like way. But Mr. 
King says you can’t get it by ’vestigating, you must 
just take it and find out about it afterward. Why, 
ma, ’twould do you good to have all the country 
folks talking pleasant to you. You and all the little 
shavers are going to the castle next year. Daisy 
wrote you about that. I’ve brought you home my 
wages I earned doing farm chores.” 

Ho, you hayseeder, give me a cent to buy a cigar- 
ette,” cried Elmer. 

“ I guess not ; and if I ketch you cigaretting I’ll 
thrash you worse than father ever did. I’ve learned 
lots ’bout them poisonous things.” 

“ Do cigarettes grow in the country ? ” 

“ No, sir. Isn’t the country the next place to 
heaven ? The Lord made the tilings that grow there, 
and he never made cigarettes. Bat how this room 
does smell, so many sleeping and living in one room ! 
I’m going to strike for liigher wages and have three 
rooms, ’stead of two. Tliese windows are going up 
every day, winter or summer, and please don’t one of 
you put ’em down.” 

“ But the babies will fall out,” said Myra. 

‘‘We might put slats of wood across them,” proposed 


Home. 


351 


Daisy, who was holding two of the babies and try- 
ing to amuse the third, who sat upon the floor. 

“ I missed the babies more than any thing,” said 
Chester, taking Baby Whitehead up for the sixth 
time since he had been home. O, mother, the best 
part of the country-week is to get home again ; and 
I’ve brought a sister home with me.” 

“ Didn’t you take her with you ? ” 

“ Ho ; she didn’t seem like my sister then. She 
does now. Johnnie treats his sisters as if they weren’t 
his sisters. I’m going to be as good to mine too. 
See here ; ” and Chester threw his arms round Daisy 
and gave her a hearty kiss, while the other children 
looked on in astonishment. 

“ That is the way it used to be with my brothers 
and sisters,” exclaimed Mrs. Dow, wiping away her tears 
with her apron. “ It has been harder for me to see my 
children quarrel than any tiling else I’ve had to bear.” 

“O, the blackberries we picked!” said Chester. 
“ What would you think to see this floor just covered 
with berries? Well, I’ve seen the ground just cov- 
ered with ’em. Could pick all I wanted to. Why, 
the country is so big, you could put the whole of 
Boston into it and still have room left. There are 
gardens of flowers and gardens of vegetables, gardens 
of trees and gardens of stubs. Country folks raise 
every thing, even the wood they burn. I’ve brought 
home some apples for the newsboys.” 

What! When they steal your customers and tear 
lip your papers! ” exclaimed Elmer. 

‘‘ That is why I am going to do it ; show ’em I can 
be good to them if they can't to me. That is the way 
country people do.” 


352 


Gems Without Polish. 


“ Christians, you mean,” corrected Daisy. 

There was an opening stuffed with rags in the wall 
between Mrs. Dow’s room and the one occupied by 
the Cromwell family. Jeanie Cromwell pulled the 
rags away and peeped in upon the happy group. 

“ Look at that eye,” cried Myra, putting her hand 
over the opening. “ Go away, you impertinent 
girl,” she shouted. 

“ I wont. I’m in my own house and have a right 
to do what I’ve a mind to.” 

“ O, Myra, please be more gentle,” said Daisy. 

Let me speak to her. Jeanie, don’t you want to come 
in here where you can see better ? I have some flowers 
and apples for you, too.” 

The Dows were surprised at such a remark from 
Daisy, who had always been unfriendly to the Crom- 
well family. 

Jeanie accepted the invitation, and as Daisy fllled 
her hands with wild flowers and fruit, exclaimed, 
“ You’re the only one who has spoken a decent word 
to me for I don’t know how long. Ma’s been on a 
drunk for a week and not given us a bite o’ bread. 
I’ve had to scrape ’round and get what I could. 
Billie Burns let me pick up some things. I’m 
sick o’ staying home with them cross babies. I jest 
Avanted to peek in here and see the country-week. I 
’spose ’twas saucy, but I will stop the hole up again, 
and I’ll try to keep the babies still every night so 
they wont cry and set your babies to crying too, way 
they did last night. But ’twasii’t my fault, as Myra 
said it was. Mrs. Hason’s babies set ours squalling 
and the babies in the room next to hers set her young 
ones a-e”’'’inp*. Those that started it were afraid of 


Home. 353 

their father. He was too full, and was smashing the 
dishes.” 

“ I slept every night sound’s a log all the time I 
was gone,” said Chester. ‘‘ Didn’t wake up once in 
tlie night.” 

“ Don’t believe it,” said Elmer. 

After Jeanie had gone home Daisy took three- 
year-old Madge in her lap and said, ‘‘ Sister wants to 
tell you about a dear Friend I found in the country ; 
it is the dear Lord.” 

“ Guess he’s the one pa stolds’bout.” 

“ But papa does not think that he is saying things 
to displease Jesus. But Madge must be a good^ girl 
and try to please Jesus.” 

“ I is dood. I’s tooked tare of the babies and not 
waked ’em up. I’s not dwiiiked the milk out o’ their 
bottles. I’s tooked your place while you was don.” 

“ I am glad you have. And you must still keep 
on being good ; for Jesus sees you all the time.” 

Madge looked around. “I doesn’t see him.” 

“None of us can see him until we go to his beauti- 
ful home in heaven ; yet he can look down on us.” 

“ Do he sees me now ? I hasn’t dot my head tomed, 
and my tier’s dirty.” 

“ Yes, he sees you ; and sister will comb your hair 
and let you wear one of those pretty aprons I made 
for you while I was gone.” 

“ Will Jesus love me then ?” 

“ He loves all the little boys and girls, no matter 
how they look ; but he would much rather have them 
nice and clean. He watches over the children all the 
time.” 

“ Then I tan wun’way all I wants to and neber det 
23 


354 Gems Without Polish. 

lost if he takes care of me. Dess Fll wan away 
now.” 

“ Bat you mast stay and let me tell yon some more 
about Jesus ; for I have told him about you.” 

‘‘ How did you do that if folks neber see him ?” 

“ You know Laura ; the blind girl I took you to see 
one time. She could not see you, but could talk wdth 
you ; and you could both see her and talk with her. 
Now I can’t see Jesus, but I can talk with him. 
Talking with Jesus is praying. I will teach you tlie 
sweet little prayer Bess says, so you can talk with 
Jesus too. I have told this dear Friend that I would 
not speak any more cross words to you or to the other 
children. If I ever should forget and be cross, you 
must just whisper the name of Jesus to me, and I will 
be all nice and pleasant again.” 

Mrs. Dow, who had been listening to what her 
child said, now remarked : “ Ah, Daisy, it is you that 
are teaching me the good things, and I ought to have 
told you of ’em years ago. God bless the one that 
ever thought of the country-week ! ” 

‘‘Never mind, mother dear; you have had so much 
to do all your life. And God will forgive you if you 
only ask him. But no one can help being a Chris- 
tian where May is ; you would think Jesus was one 
of the family the way she talks about him. She asks 
Jesus about every tiling she does.” 

Here Mr. Dow entered. Although in a state of 
intoxication he was soberer than usual, and seemed 
pleased to see his children again. 

“ It’s sort o’ set me a-thinking,” he said, “ to see 
other folks putting themselves out so for my chil- 
dren and me doing nothing for them. What’s that 


Home. 


355 


you’ve brought? a piece of pine? I felled many a 
pine-tree down in Maine when I was a boy. Mari- 
golds, too ? My ! it seems as if mother must have 
brought them here to me.” 

Mr. Dow was dead to the present and the future ; 
but these trophies from the country awakened tender 
memories of the past — the only reality to him. He 
saw in his eldest daughter the rosy-cheeked, happy 
country girl his weary wife had been before he had 
brought her to poverty. 


350 


Gems Without Polish. 


‘ CHAPTEK XXY. 

AN AFTERNOON AT THE CASTLE. 

Each ten planned to assemble at the castle for 
their regular meeting once in two weeks — the Ladj’s- 
Delights on Wednesdays, the Knights on Saturdays. 
A union meeting was to be held on the first Monday 
of each month. 

The boys and girls had met for their second union 
meeting. A bright fire was burning in the fire-place. 
Frank Bradley was presiding; he occupied the barrel- 
chair as place of honor. Hattie Dunlap, the general 
secretary, was seated at the table. The other mem- 
bers were comfortably sitting around the room. 

Hattie was asked to read the following Constitu- 
tion of Wadsworth Castle, which the young people 
had met to make out a few nights before : 

PREAMBLE. 

We, the young people of Brownville, being formed into 
two Ten-Times-One-is-Ten Clubs, known respectively as the 
Knights and the Lady’s-Delights, desiring to brighten the 
lives of the city poor by giving them a short vacation at a sum- 
mer home provided for that purpose, adopt the following 

CONSTITUTION. 

Article I. — Name, Motto, etc. 

The name of this summer home shall be Wadsworth Castle. 
Its emblem shall be the cross of Malta. Its watchword shall 
be “For the love of Christ, and in his name.” Its motto shall 
be “Kept for the Master’s use.” 


An Afternoon at the Castle. 


357 


Article II. — Objects. 

This home shall be used as a free boarding-house for the 
poor of Boston during the summer months, as a place of 
meeting of the Knights and Lady’s-Delights during the re- 
maining months, and for the Master’s use generally. 

Article III. — Trustees. 

Sec. 1. The trustees of this home shall be the Knights and 
the Lady’s-Delights and an Advisory Board. 

Sec. 2. The Advisory Board shall consist of four adults to 
be chosen by the two tens. 

Sec. 3. No measures of importance can be taken without 
the advice and consent of the Advisory Board. 

Article IV. — Committees. 

Sec. 1. There shall be five committees; namely, on finance, 
furniture, grounds, provisions, and entertainment. 

Sec. 2. These committees shall be appointed annually by 
the Advisory Board. Each committee shall serve for one sea- 
son, with the exception of the Committee on Provisions, which 
shall serve for one week. 

Sec. 3. The Committee on Finance shall take full charge of 
all money matters connected with the Castle. No funds can 
be expended without consent of this committee. 

Sec. 4. The Committee on Furniture shall see that the house 
is supplied with necessary furniture, and that this is well cared 
for. The chairman of this committee shall keep a list of every 

article of furniture in the house. 

Sec. 5. The Committee on Grounds shall see that there are 
vegetable and flower gardens on the land belonging to the 
Castle. They shall set out shade and fruit trees, and shall see 
tl'at nothing around the premises is destroyed. 

Sec. 6. The Committee on Provisions shall see that the 
house is furnished with a necessary supply of food, which they 
shall obtain either by funds furnished for the purpose, or by 
solicitation. Should any one be unable to serve his appointed 
week on this committee he shall notify the chairman of the 


358 


Gems Without Polish. 


Advisory Board, who shall furnish a sul)stitute and transfer 
the absentee to a similar work at some future time. 

Sec. 7 . The Committee on Entertainment shall arrange at 
least one picnic for each party of guests, and shall encourage 
them to plan independent picnics. This committee shall make 
arrangements for concerts, readings, and rides, and shall see 
that the guests are supplied with suitable games and reading- 
matter. 

Article V. — Duties op the Housekeeper. 

Sec. 1. The housekeeper of Wadsworth Castle shall be a 
respectable woman of suitable age. She shall be engaged by 
the Advisory Board. 

Sec. 2. The duties of this housekeeper shall be to take the 
whole care of the home; to appoint certain of the guests to 
assist each day in the housework; to see that the guests are 
furnished at least once a day with hearty food, and to report 
all misconduct of guests to the Advisory Board. 

Article VI.— Guests. 

Sec. 1. This home shall be opened to women, young ladies, 
and children of any color, nationality, or religious sect. No 
child under seven years of age shall be received unless accom- 
panied by some older person. Parties of from twenty to thirty 
will be admitted on the first and third Wednesdays of the 
months of July and August for a stay of two weeks. 

Sec. 2. No guest shall be received unless she brings a writ- 
ten certificate of good character signed by a pastor or a mem- 
ber of the Associated Charities of Boston. 

Sec. 3. No one shall be received unless she also brino-s a 
certificate stating that she is free from contagious disease, 
and signed by some relialfie physician. 

Sec. 4. No guest shall be received who has had, or intends 
to have, during the season, fresh-air privileges in connection 
with other summer homes or elsewhere. 

Sec. 5. Parties in ill health will receive free medical treat- 
ment from the Brownville physician. If he advises, they and 
they alone can remain at the home longer tlian the allotted two 
weeks. 


An Afternoon at the Castle. 


359 


Si£C, 6. Each guest shall take care of her room. 

Sec. 7. All bedding shall be aired each day and changed 
each week. 

Sec. 8. No guest shall rise earlier than six A. M. All lights 
shall be out at ten P. M., after which time there shall be no 
loud talking. 

Sec. 9. No fires shall be built around the premises. Noth- 
ing about the house or grounds shall be defaced. 

Sec. 10. All parties shall respect and obey the housekeeper. 

Sec. 11. Should any disputes or disturbances arise, they 
shall be reported at once to the housekeeper. 

Sec. 12. No smoking or profanity shall be allowed about 
this home. 

Sec. 13. Strict observance of the Sabbath shall be required. 
On this day shall be no unnecessary housework, no games, no 
fishing, no boating. 

Sec. 14. The pastor of the Methodist Episcopal Church (the 
only church in town), will be pleased to meet any of the guests of 
an}’^ denomination at the parsonage. His reception time will be 
Tuesday and Thursday afternoons from two to six o’clock. 
Parties shall be invited to attend all services of the Methodist 
Episcopal Church; yet no creed shall be taught the children 
except that of pure love to God and man. If the friends of 
the Catholic or Jewish children do not wish them to attend 
sucli services, one of the Lady’s-Delights shall stay at the 
castle and read them suitable stories and amuse them in any 
way proper for the Sabbath. 

Sec. 15. Parties who persist in breaking the above rules 
shall be sent home and never again received at this home. 

Sec. 16. These rules relating to the duties of guests shall 
be placed in a conspicuous place in the parlor of the home. 
They shall also be read by the housekeeper to each party on 
day of arrival. 

As Hattie finished Lutie said, Listen. I have jnst 
been making the following amendments : 

“ First. Ho woman, young lady, or little girl shall 
be seen bringing in wood or water. 


360 


Gems Without Polish. 


“Second. No eating between meals. 

“ Third. The children shall keep their hands and 
faces clean all the time. 

“Fourth. No animals belonging to the place shall 
l)e cruelly treated. No birds killed for plumage. 
No frogs stoned.” 

After Lutie had sat down Bee remarked : “ I have 
been writing down some places of interest that I want 
tacked up in this room. I will read them. My 
Aunt Mary said folks do put places of interest in 
hotels. 

“Places of Inteeest. 

“ 1. Nice place for clay-modeling and making doll 
furniture on Day’s Hill. 

“ 2. Blueberry pasture back of my house. 

“3. A nice brook for wading in Chase’s Grove. 

“ 4. There’s a sandhill back of the church. Lots 
of fun to dig in it. 

“ 5. Good place back of the castle to take your din- 
ner. You can eat berries oft the bushes without pick- 
ing them. 

“ 6. Splendid trees to climb in front of castle. 

“ 7. There’s a pretty walk through Dickinson’s pas- 
ture. It used to be a cow path.” 

All laughed. Then Hattie read the minutes of the 
last union meeting, which were as follows : 

“ The first union meeting of the Knights and 
Lady’s-Delights (a special meeting) was held at their 
castle, Thursday evening, October 24. Number pres- 
ent, seventeen. Mr. King, being present, gave sev- 
eral ideas on parliamentary rule. Keports of our 
several temporary committees read and accepted. 
Pcport of house-warming was read. ' 


An Afternoon at the Castle. 361 

“Voted that each member of each ten shall write 
a letter once a week to some one of onr coiintry- 
weekers, whom we shall ask to write to us as often. 
Money for postage to be used from general funds. 
A fine of five cents to be required of all members 
who neglect to write. 

“The literary exercises consisted of readings, reci- 
tations, and singing.’- 

The minutes being accepted, the president called 
for reports of commitees. 

Lutie, being chairman of the Committee on Furni- 
ture, arose and said : “The following articles have been 
donated since our last meeting : A Bible-roll for the 
dining-room, two pictures, one cot-bed, a water-pail, 
three flat-irons, a saw-horse, a pair of shears, a crib, 
a lamp, a dozen clothes-pins, two old umbrellas for 
guests, a knit table-spread, and a coal-hod ; yet we 
don’t intend to use coal.” 

“ Put the coal-hod in the parlor for an ornament,” 
laughed Paul. “ 1 have read of a great man in China, 
or Japan, or somewhere, who put an American cook- 
stove in his parlor as a curiosity.” 

“ We have begun a new quilt for the house,” con- 
tinued Lutie. “ Miss Lovell has put a pen-and-ink 
picture of the castle on the middle square, and we 
thought we would have a quilting and supper here 
some night, and charge five cents for the privilege 
of writing the autograph and passage of Scripture 
on each block which will contain a white square. I 
hope you will all come.” 

“ We’ll be there ! ” shouted Philip 

“ Mrs. Murray has given us cretonne enough to 
make a pine-pillow for every chamber. We girls 


362 Gems Without Polish. 

had an outing the other day and gathered the pine 
ourselves. 

“We are saving up our rags to make new rugs 
for the house. Thought we would meet here some 
day and braid them. Aren’t we old-fashioned ? 

“ Jeanie has crocheted a work-basket for each 
chamber. She formed them into shape over a tin 
basin, having first dipped them in glue until they 
were stiff, and when they were completed adorned 
them with ribbons. 

“ The boys have taken a knocker from Mr. Day’s 
back door and put it on the front door of our castle ; 
they have made two hammocks from barrel-staves and 
ropes, and have promised to put three bunks in the 
west attic. The east attic we have fitted up as a play- 
room, wliere the children may be amused on rainy 
days. Johnnie and Bee have made a doll-house from 
a dry-goods box. A swing has been put up. An 
old settle has been given us for this room, also several 
games and toys, a blackboard, an old rocking-horse, 
several rag-dolls, bean-bags, a ring-toss, a drawing- 
slate, and picture-books. We are to make a large 
scrap-book for this room, to be filled with newspaper 
pictures and cheap cards. So all please to save up 
such pictures and hand them to Sadie.” 

The Committee on Grounds, Paul Jennings chair- 
man, then gave in their report. 

“ We fellows are going to have father’s oxen next 
Saturday, and plow up a piece for a garden in the 
north-east corner. ’Twill be ready to plant the first 
thing in spring. Lots of old tools have been prom- 
ised us. 

“We have planned to put up a picnic-table in 


An Afternoon at the Castle. 363 

Dickinson’s Grove. Got permission, of course. Mr. 
Parker has given us the old school settees that came 
out of the school-house that was burned, and they 
were stowed in his barn. Guess we’ll put them all 
through the grove. We are to make a martin-house 
to put in the tree near the back door. Mr. Parker is 
going to make us a garden settee out of an old-fash- 
ioned bedstead. The head-board is to be the back ; 
the foot-board is cut in two for the arms. ’Twill be 
real cute. He got the pattern ‘down East.’ We 
have laid out two or three flower-beds. But Jeanie 
will tell about those. We have set out three ever- 
green-trees in our yard, and have the promise of two 
apple-trees — early fruit — and of three pear-trees.” 

Jeanie was called upon and said : 

“ One of our beds is made in the shape of the 
cross of Malta ; we sowed it yesterday with royal 
purple pansy seed. We hava another long, narrow 
bed that is to be sown with lady’s- delight seed so ar- 
ranged as to spell Wadsworth Castle. We mean to 
have a rockery, if you Knights will make it. We 
want all the bulbs, roots, or seed that we can col- 
lect, especially those of old-fashioned flowers. We 
have set out a number of roots of woodbine to run 
up over the house, also planned to have a row of 
morning-glories near the back door. Hortie has 
written that she will buy a few shrubs for the 
grounds, rose-bushes, honey-siickles, etc.” 

“ Has your committee made any rules concerning 
flowers and sucli things ? ” asked Frank. 

“ Yes ; and I think they would best be put in the 
Constitution. We thought the girls at the castle 
miglit like to take care of the flower-gardens. Of 


364 


Gems WnnouT Polish. 


course, we can’t allow any one to gather the flowers 
except on special occasions, because the flowers for 
the parlor and dining-room must be taken from these 
gardens ; but we shall let each person pick a bouquet 
to carry home at the close of her visit, and the mem- 
bers of the last party can carry away all the house- 
plants, that is, if they wish to.” 

Will the Committee on Provisions now report ? ” 
asked Frank. 

Hattie Dunlap, the chairman of said committee, 
which included all, responded : 

“We girls have been drying apples, putting up 
jellies and pickles, and drying berries. Most of the 
ladies of Brownville have promised to send in pies, 
cakes, bread, and such things, every baking day ; and 
they have pledged us butter, lard, vegetables, pork, 
flour, meal, spices, potatoes, etc. I know of one bar- 
rel of apples that is waiting in a certain person’s cel- 
lar for the castle. We are to keep our own hens, 
each member of the two tens giving one. Philip has 
said he will build us a hen-pen. We shall either bor- 
row or hire our own cow, or each contribute milk 
from our mothers’ dairies. Miss Haines proposes that 
we set out an orchard for the castle next Arbor Day.” 

“ Mr. President, may I make a suggestion ? ” asked 
May. 

The chair assented. 

“ I have been reading how the King’s Daughters 
in different places put the initials of their motto, 
I. H. H., on the tumblers of jelly they set aside for the 
sick. I propose that we put the initials of our motto, 
K. M. U., on every thing belonging to our castle : 
towels, napkins, books, tumblers of jell^, etc. Of 


An Afternoon at the Castle. 365 

course, many of these things ought to be marked in 
some way, and wdien these poor guests see tliat the 
smallest article about the house is kept for the Mas- 
ter’s use they may think that they can serve him in 
their humble city homes.” 

This plan was voted to be carried out. 

The Committee on Entertainment next offered their 
report. Mildred was chairman. 

“We have made out our list of entertainments for 
the country-weekers, so that when they arrive we shall 
have nothing to do but to carry out our plans. The 
Knights are to make us a croquet-ground. We are 
to make our own set. Captain Roberts has furnished 
wdre for the wickets. Paul is to make the mallets and 
stakes on his turning-lathe, and the balls we have not 
yet obtained, but think we know where we can find 
some. Hortie writes that she will have her lawn 
tennis set put on our grounds, since she lives so near 
and would as soon as not come here whenever she 
wishes to play. The Knights say they will make us 
a donkey for a ‘ donkey party ; ’ they will furnish 
bats and balls for at least two nines, and will put up 
swings. Johnnie Lovell offers ns the use of his 
magic lantern during the summer. Our ‘ honorary ’ 
lend-a-hand horse will be on duty. 

“ I will read our list of entertainments for the 
summer, one half of which we shall probably can-y 
out : Paring-bee, a husking (if guests stay late enougl i), 
a soap-bubble party, a pop-corn party, candy pulls, 
socials at our homes, picnics, rides ; talks on the fiowers, 
birds, etc., by Miss Lovell ; occasional lectures, by 
Dr. Murray on hygiene, and by Mr. King on any 
subject ; concerts by both country and city children. 


306 


Gems AVitiiout roLisii. 


and last, but not least, the regular meetings of our 
clubs, to which we sliall invite our guests. Mr. King 
says we can have five or six hymn-books from the 
church, during the summer, to keep at the castle, that 
is, if the boys wont mark them up this winter as badly 
as they did last winter.” 

“ I guess we wont,” cried Eaymond. 

‘‘ Our presiding officer has gone into carriage-mak- 
ing,” resumed Mildred. He came across an old 
baby-carriage that was minus a wheel. However, he 
supplied the missing wheel, and the babies of the cas- 
tle can now have a coach of their own.” 

“Hurrah for Frank!” shouted Paul; “three 
cheers for our President.” 

“ Our committee has the promise of considerable 
reading-matter,” continued Mildred. “ Dr. Murray 
and Mr. King will send their papers over every week. 
Aunt Mary will give us her Harjper's. We thought 
we would have a circulating library, to be used by 
ourselves in winter, by our guests during the sum- 
mer. We can purchase quite a number of good books 
in paper bindings for five dollars. Mr. King sug- 
gests that we choose restful books, which will cause the 
poor people to forget their cares and troubles, that 
their minds as well as their bodies may be rested. He 
has promised tlie following books from his library : 
Pilgrim’s Progress, Stepping Heavenward, Pearl of 
OrPs Island, Andersen’s Fairy Tales, and two vol- 
umes of young people’s histories. May’s Aunt Mary 
adds three or four volumes of the Yassar Girls’ trav- 
els, and I propose that we buy at once Ten Times 
One is Ten, In His Name, and Kept for the Mas- 
iePs TJseT 


An Ab’ternoon at the Castle. 367 

1 will give some of the Pansy Bodks^'^ said Jeanie ; 
“every one that I own.” 

“I’ll give my Lady’s-Delight books, ’cause I is a 
Lady’s-Delight,” remarked Estelle. 

“ What are those ? ” asked Lutie. 

“ One of ’em is my last Sunday-school book,” 

“ O, you mean the Little Pansy Series.” 

“ Ess. Isn’t ‘ Little Pansies ’ Lady’s-Delights ? ” 

“ Sure enough ! and I know that Hortense will give 
us some of her books, she has so many ; she always 
gives me those she brings here for summer reading. 
I shall speak for What Katy Did at School. How 
Mollie Pitkin will laugh over ‘ Rose Red ! ’ ” 

“We want Robinson Crusoe and Swiss Family 
Robinson, suggested Will. 

“ Ujydhe- Ladder Club Series, too,” added Frank. 

“ If I ever wrote books,” remarked Raymond, “ I’d 
never put a girl in a story unless she was a girl like 
Bee, with lots of fun to her.” 

“ I will give a few of my poets,” said Jeanie ; 
“ Longfellow, Whittier, and such as any one can un- 
derstand. Papa says that poetry seems to have a 
'soothing effect upon his patients, and, of course, we 
shall have some invalids here.” 

“ I will give you all my Alcott books,” said May ; 
“ and Aunt Mary suggests that we buy a few of Woods’ 
natural history books, which will teach the country- 
weekers in a simple way of the wonderful things 
around them.” 

“ O May ! I should think you would want a Bible 
ill our library,” cried Bee. 

“ Why, darling ! Estelle and Sadie have hunted up 
all the old Bibles in the neighborhood, and we have 


368 


Gems Without Polish. 


placed one in each chamber. Of course we want to 
give our guests the best of reading, and to try to in- 
duce them, especially the children, to give up the im- 
moral books and papers they often have ; and remem- 
ber, we shall have to practice what we preach. Bee’s 
idea of the Bible for summer guests reminds me of 
what I once read. A person rusticating in the coun- 
try sent to one of the farm-houses for some good 
reading-matter ; a Bible was sent ! IS ow, to secure 
money to purchase our library, suppose we give a 
public meeting next month and take up a collection. 
Mr. King proposes we write essays to read on the fol- 
lowing subjects: City and Country Life Contrasted^ 
Higher Wages for Farmers^ etc. 1 propose that each 
member (both honorary and active) of our clubs con- 
tribute one of his books to the library ; we often lend 
our books to one another, and why not do it in a sys- 
tematic way? There will then be twenty volumes to 
start with. I think we might also collect newspaper 
clippings and make scrap-books.” 

May’s suggestions were discussed ; fourteen of the 
members promised a book each, and Philip was ap- 
pointed librarian. 

‘‘ The Committee on Entertainment will now tell a 
secret,” said Mildred. “ Captain Roberts has given 
us his boat.” 

“ Hurrah for Captain Roberts ! ” shouted Will ; 
^^and we boys will make a wharf near the castle. 
Let’s put up some bathing-houses, too.” 

Let’s have a gymnasium in the shed,” proposed 
Paul, after a while. We can fix it up ourselves — 
swinging-club, bars, punching-bag, and every thing. 
Your father will help us ; wont he, Jeanie?” 


An Afternoon at the Castle. 369 

“ May be so ; but 1 don’t think much of gymnasi- 
ums. The idea of jumping up and down in a close 
room when you might be running or climbing trees 
in the fresh air ! But I have a suggestion. Why 
can’t we make inite-boxes for the city children, that 
they may save their pennies to help toward the ex- 
penses of their country- week ? I know it seems a pity 
to take their pennies when they have so few and want 
them for candy ; but papa says the spirit of independ- 
ence thus encouraged will be a great blessing to them. 
We might also place a mite-box in this room, for con- 
tributions from the guests, and also keep mite-boxes 
ourselves. Couldn’t we cover some napkin-ring or 
collar boxes with bright paper for this purpose, and 
decorate them with pictures of flowers, birds, or any 
country object ; and with this motto, ‘ God made the 
country and man made the town ? ’ ” 

Jeanie’s suggestion was voted to be carried out. 
“We need a janitor for tlie castle,” said Frank, 
“ to build our fires, now that it is coming cold weather, 
to chop wood, and to tend the lights when we have 
evening meetings. Whom will you nominate % ” 

“ Tom Waring,” answered Will. “ Of course, any 
of us could do this ; but he is so anxious to lend a 
hand, and is so foolish, he couldn’t be any thing to 
the house but a janitor. He doesn’t understand why 
we don’t ask his advice concerning the castle; but 
I explained that he was an honorary member, and 
he felt honored. He is very poor; and instead of 
giving him money, as the liady’s-Helights did last 
winter after their festival, we might pay him for tak- 
ing care of the house ; that is, if we can get money 
enough to pay him.” 

24 


370 


Gems Without Polish. 


“ We must ! ” said Frank. ‘‘ Tom shall be janitor.” 

“ Whom shall we have for housekeeper ? ” asked May. 

“ I have some one all picked out,” answered Hat- 
tie. “I have even offered her the chance. It is 
Jane Meredith; and she will accept the offer, pro- 
vided we all want her.” 

“Just the one!” observed Mildred. “She will 
have to move as soon as Mrs. Rankin wants her house 
again ; and where can she go but to the castle ? But 
would the country-weekers mind her?” Mildred 
looked doubtful. 

“I think so,” answered Lutie. “You know she 
never has to tell Harold to do a thing more than 
once. She is a good cook, too ; so Mrs. Rankin says, 
and she ought to know. But, of course, we will 
have to consult the Advisory Board before engaging 
her. How we do plan ahead ! ” 

“Papa says he thinks it well that we do,” 
said Jeanie, “while we are so enthusiastic over our 
house. We don’t want to make any plans while our 
guests are here. And, by the way, mamma has sent 
to Boston for a portrait of Harry Wadsworth (Green- 
leaf was his real name, wasn't ic?) to hang in this 
parlor; and has also sent for a framed copy of his 
four mottoes for the hall.” 

Frank next read the following note from Mr. Day : 

“ Friend Frank — A young man called at my house 
to-day to see about getting the school-house, in which 
to keep a writing-school this winter. I thought he 
might aid you linancially by hiring a room at the 
castle instead. He will pay half a dollar per night 
and furnish his wood and lights. He thinks he would 


An Afternoon at the Castle. 371 

obtain more pupils by having lessons at the castle. 
Wants one of you boys as janitor. Will give lessons 
free to the one who thus serves. Let me know to- 
morrow what can be done. In haste, 

“James K. Day.” 

It was decided to let a room for the writing-school ; 
and many of the boys and girls expressed a desire 
to take lessons. Philip, being a poor boy, and one 
who would enjoy, but could not afford, such a privi- 
lege, was proposed as janitor ; but he declined, say- 
ing that he would rather give Tom the chance of 
thus earning a few dollars. 

May then announced that she had two letters to 
read. Here is the first : 

“Dear May — Our Chautauqua Literary and 
Scientific Circle would like to hold our regular 
Saturday night meetings in the castle. We look 
upon your cozy parlor as a real church parlor that 
belongs to our parish. We think more could be 
induced to come to our gatherings if they are 
held in a public place like the castle than in a 
private house. Many of our parlors are used as 
sleeping-rooms in the winter, and some farmers’ 
wives find it difficult to heat their houses for 
evening companies. We will pay for the oil and 
wood we use. We would like to keep our maps and 
our collection of natural curiosities at the castle; 
also to borrow your blackboard from the play-room. 
Will you kindly let us know as soon as possible if 
our plans are pleasing to the Knights and Lady’s- 
Delights? Yours, truly, Harriet Haines. 

“ President of Brown ville C. L. S. C.” 


372 Gems Without Polish. 

Here is the second letter : 

“ Dear Miss Lovell — I am a stranger to you, but 
not to the King in whose name you have undertaken 
so grand a work. A year ago I lost an only daughter, 
who died a niontli before her intended wedding-day. 
For a long time she and I had been saving up our 
money to fit up her new home which her friend 
was building. But her Saviour was also preparing 
a place for her among tlie many mansions, and got 
ready for her first. I cannot bear to spend this 
money for myself. I have long been trying to find 
some use for it. When I heard of Wadsworth Castle 
I decided to send it to you. Please keep this affair 
quiet, and withhold my name from every body. 

‘‘ Yours, lovingly, A Lonely Mother.” 

May wmuld not even tell where this friend lived ; 
she merely announced that there was a check of six 
hundred dollars in the castle treasury, which sum was 
much needed. 

A vote of thanks was sent through her to the stran- 
ger, and word to Miss Haines that the Chautauqua 
Literary and Scientific Circle were welcome to the 
use of the castle. 

Fifteen of the country-weekers written to had re- 
sponded. These letters were now read, each by its • 
recipient. We give but a few of them. Johnnie read 
his first. It was from Chester : 

“ Dear Johnnie : I hot a Pensil jest to rite to U. 
it is a read one as U see. I am pretty well, thank you, 
hope you B the same. 1 have swarped knives ate 
times and not broken that pledge Aunt mary had Me 


An Afternoon at the Castle. 373 

sign. Daisy is going to her mother burnham’s next 
Week. She reads a chapter out loud every day out 
of may’s Bible, and says the Lord’s Prayer. Mother 
and the rest of us say it with her, when father aint 
Round. Some of the girls up-stairs listen and are quiet 
at our door When she Does it and asked her to learn 
it to them to pray. Ko news except Five New Babies 
in our alley. I’ll say no more for 1 have no more to 
say. good by. Chester.” 

Jeanie then read the following letter, every word 
of which was followed by a dash : 

“Dear Friend: I was glad of your letter and 
Sunday-school papers and the village paper that told 
about the House-warming. I am glad I have a room 
at the castle, and am saving my cards for it. Glad too 
that you are to have a reception for us when we come. 
I was home-sick a whole week after I got home. We 
have moved three times since. I live with my big 
sister because I am an orphant. I brought that old 
book home full of pressed flowers and leaves. I put 
some on the wall. When my foot aches very awfully 
I like too look at them. I take the medicine your 
father give me — yes, I will let you know when I want 
sum more. That doll you give me sleeps with me 
every nite. I have taught my sister’s children the 
songs and verses you taught me, and we have concerts 
every Sunday because I am lame and can’t go to mis- 
sion-school. 

“ They rest my poor tired sister. 

“ With love to all. 


“ Blanche Howe.” 


374 Gems Without Polish. 

Hattie now read her letter from Mollie Pitkin : 


“Boss Town, Nov., 1887. 

“ Dear Girl, can i have the other half of this sheet 
of paper to write to 1 of the girls at skool ? 
if i can send it Back. When i began this letter 
mother asked me to write to her sister she had not 
writen to for 5 years. So I will, for she can’t write 
and she give me a cent to buy a sheet of paper for 
that. Her eyes are sore. I Sweep every day ’cause i 
think maybe some of you will happen along. Glad 
you scent me them paper dolls and knit me some mit- 
tens. I’m not a bit better than i was before i whent 
on the country week. Ma says I’m worse. If you 
invite me next year maybe i will be better. I have 
tried to remember my polite words, so as not to have 
to learn them over next year at the country. I have 
learnt them to my little sister too. Good by. 

‘‘Mollie Pitkin.” 


“ Let me read my letter from the twins,” cried Es- 
telle. “I knows it by heart 


“Little missie, Jim and me is printing this letter. 
Mammy tells us what to say. We don’t no mutch to 
write to a girl. We aint no better sense we whent to 
the kuntry ’kause we was good ’nouf before. But 
we says now, yes^ sir., and no, sir, and good morn- 
ing^ ’stead of halloo^ I hurt my finger, Tusday. 
The black hasn’t koine off yet, way you sed it would. 
“Yours for ever. 


“ Abraham Lincoln 
“ Jimmie Garfield 


Kollins.” 


An Afternoon at the Castle. 375 

“ P. S. Mammy says P. S. means here is another 
letter. 

“P. S. It was Wensday, not Tusday I hurt my 
finger. A. L. R. 

“ P. S. Mammy is comitig to the castle, with Jim 
and me, next year.” 

Here is the letter Lutie received from one of the 
poor women : 

“ My Kind Friend : I just kried to think you 
should wright to a poor old soul like me. Hone of 
my folks think enough to wright to me. I might 
not have had the blues so mutch if I had hurd from 
them. I sing the songs I learned in the country to 
baby. (They seem the only part of the country I 
could bring home to keep.) Sweet angel, that visit 
saved its life. I have been better since my rest, so 
of course 1 can be more patient with my children. I 
can get them to do any thing by promising to tell them 
about the country. I often wish I had some of that 
dry wood, that I saw in the grove, doing good to no- 
body. I rooted the slips that were in that box you 
give me. Yes, I will come to the castle next year 
with all my little ones. Thanks for the invitation. 

“ With love to all. Mrs. Boid.” 

Philip’s letter from the Gray boys came next : 

“ Philip : How are you, old fellow ? Ben and me 
are writing this Letter together. We never done 
northing together before ’cause we fit so. We have 
slicked up ’cause you do in the kuntrie. We got 
some old colars out of the rag bags that we wear. We 


376 


Gems Without Polish. 


found some rusty pens in the junk to write with. 
May be we can find some old flatirons and spiders for 
the castle. I paid two cents the other day to get my 
boots blacked. ’Twas below the regular price, but the 
boot-black was a ’ticular friend of mine. He spent 
the 2 cents for candy and gave me one stick. The 
store man said it was a new kind that would not rot 
your teeth, but he was fooling. We have put things 
round tlie house in better style since I went to Brown- 
ville, have tied up the old chairs, put patches on The 
roof where it leaked ; and on mother’s birthday we 
borrowed my chumb’s blacking and blacked her stove ; 
it was boot-blacking but did jest as well. We fellows 
will help make the castle garden. 

“ Gray Brothers.” 

Here is the letter Addie wrote to Sadie : 

‘‘ Hear Friend : I never got a letter till yours came. 
I would have sent some lace for the fair, if you had 
written me about it. I now send some for the pillow- 
slips and shams for the castle. Mr. King called the 
other day. He brot me some appuls and talked so 
good. I have had all I kneaded this fall. The pota- 
toes Mr. Parker brought me when he came to market 
will last long. I do not work Sundays since I have 
been to the country. Mrs. Sturgis now does my wash- 
ing for me, that is because I got acquainted with her 
in Brown ville. She says I am too young to do it my- 
self. I try to do for the children what the ladies in 
the country told me too. 

“ They send their love. 

“ Good by. 


“Addie Wright.” 


An Afternoon at the Castle. 377 

Mildred received the following : 

“ Dear Mildred : I was so pleased with your letter. 
It cheers rne up to think that respectable people take 
so much notice of me. I now clerk in a fancy-goods’ 
store. Get $4 a week, pay $2 a week for a room — a 
miserable place, but the best I can do — and board and 
clothe myself with the remaining $2. I get tired in 
the store — fainted away twice last week. Your maga- 
zines you sent are all the company 1 have ; I read and 
re-read them every night. The girls in our neighbor- 
hood try to get me to go in their ‘ set,’ but they are 
not as good as they should be, and the charity ladies 
watch me so closely I fear they would not send my 
name as a candidate for the country-week next year 
should they even see me with one of these girls. I 
do thank you so much for my nice visit last year. 
That Sunday was so beautiful. I often wish I w^as as 
good as Mr. King thinks I might be. Give my love 
to all the girls, and do write again. Be sure that you 
will never be ashamed to own me as your friend. 

‘‘Lucretia Kent.” 

Hattie then read the following, which she was to 
send to Daisy : 

. “ Daisy dear : We are getting very practical lately 
and want you to form a ten. Take the country -week- 
ers who you told us lived near you, Flossie and Ira, 
the Kellett girls, and others, meet at Mrs. Kochester’s, 
say once or twice a month. Laura could then enjoy 
the meetings. We will send games, papers, etc., and 
you could find lots of ways to lend a hand. You could 
read our letters at your gatherings. I will write and 
ask Hortie to visit your club occasionally, for you must 


378 


Gems Without Polish. 


start one. Too busy ? Then take your sewing with 
you to all the meetings. Don’t answer this letter un- 
til you can tell us about the country-week ten. W ith 
love. Hattie. 

“ P. S. All the Lady’s-Delights are to write you 
a long letter next week. How many sheets of fool’s- 
cap can you spend time to read ? ” 


Little Laura Goes Home. 


379 


CHAPTER XXYI. 

LITTLE LAURA GOES HOME. 

“ 0 death, where is thy stiug? 0 grave, where is thy victory?” 

Late in August the tenement in which Addie and 
her little family lived was sold. As extensive repairs 
were to be made all the tenants were obliged to move. 
Mrs. Rochester opened her home to the three young 
orphans until the ladies interested in their case might 
secure new lodgings for them. The children were 
obliged to remain with their kind hostess for several 
weeks. 

Addie did part of the housework, and bought a 
portion of the provisions with what she earned from 
her lace. There was now some one with whom to 
leave Percy and Belle whenever she wished to go 
out for a few hours ; hence she was not so closely con- 
fined as formerly. She could do most of Mrs. Roches- 
ter’s errands, and Mrs. Rochester coidd give her much 
assistance in the care* of the children. 

As the autumn days approached Laura grew more 
and more feeble. The color that had come to her 
cheeks during the country-week now gradually disap- 
peared. The tell-tale cough set in. She complained 
every day of being “so tired.” A physician was 
called. She could not recover. But this sickness 
might not have happened had there been some one 
to lead her each day for a few hours away from the 


380 


Gems Without Polish. 


foul air and close confinement of the tenement. Her 
grandmother was too old for this, and Addie had come 
into the family too late ; hence for lack of a daily 
walk .this little blind girl must die. 

The children were much company for her. One 
day while telling them Bible stories she added, “ I 
expect Jesus will be coming for me very soon to take 
me to his beautiful home.” 

“ When is he toming ? ” asked Belle. “ Isn’t ’oo 
ready for him to-day ? ” 

‘‘ Yes, I have been ready for many years, but he is 
not quite ready for me yet. You know you were 
ready for the country a whole week before the lady 
you were to visit was ready for you.” 

“ ’Ess. But where is heaven ? ” 

“ It’s the shiny place up in the pretty sky, where 
mamma is,” replied Percy. “ What is it to die, 
Laura ” 

“ To go to sleep in Jesus’s arms and to wake up 
and see his face for the first time.” 

“ Why is it wrong for men to make people die and 
right for Jesus to let them die ?” asked the little boy, 
thoughtfully. 

“ Because every body belongs to the Lord, and he 
has a right to do as he wishes with his own. Daisy 
Dow had no right to pull up the fiowers in May Lov- 
ell’s garden and let them die, but May had a right to 
pull them all up if she wished. She often would pull 
up some when it was for the good of the others, or 
when there were too many for her to take care of.” 

“ I wish ’oo’d ask Jesus to take me to heaven,” said 
Belle, climbing into Laura’s lap. 

‘‘ May be he will not be ready for you.” 


Little Laura Goes Home. 381 

“ Then tell him to send my mamma back. She has 
been gone long nuff.” 

“ What ! do you want mamma to leave the beauti- 
ful fields of heaven and come back here ? ” 

“!Nro, guess not; but wont ’oo ask Jesus to stay 
long nuff for me to tell I love him ? ” 

You can tell him now in your prayer.” 

‘‘ ’Ess ; but may be mamma will send me somfing 
when he tomes. How ’oo know he toming soon ? ” 

‘^Because the doctor says so.” 

“Is doctor so good Jesus tells him what he is going 
to do, and don’t tell uvver folks?” 

Laura smiled. “Y^ou see my body is sick. The 
doctor knows it cannot last much longer, and my soul 
must live somewhere else, and Jesus is to place it in 
a new home.” 

“ What is ’oor soul ? ” 

“ Your soul is yourself,” answered Percy. 

“ Bight,” said Laura. “ Your soul is yourself. The 
part that thinks and feels and loves, and can never die.” 

“Can I stay in the room so as to see Jesus when 
he comes? ” asked Percy. “ But I guess he and the 
angels have forgotten to come for you. You have 
been waiting for him so long.” 

“ No, he never forgets to come for his children. 
He has promised to come.” 

“Well, Belle,” said Percy, “you must be a good 
girl all the time now, ’cause he’ll see you if you are 
naughty, but if you are good may be he will take us 
too.” 

One evening when Addie and the children were 
out Mrs. Bochester said, as she sat by Laura’s couch, 
“ You may say the Lord’s Prayer alone to-night.” 


382 


Gems Without Polish. 


“ You not repeat the Lord’s Prayer ! ” exclaimed 
Laura, in a surprised tone. 

“hJo, darling. I will pray almost any prayer but 
that.” 

“ O, grandma, I’ll not have a chance to pray with 
you much longer.” 

“ That is the trouble ; I cannot pray ‘ Thy will be 
done,’ and I will not mock God by lip-service. Why 
should he take my all? ” 

‘‘ He knows best. And after I am gone he will 
give you more of himself to make up for the loss. 
How he must feel to have you unwilling for him to 
do what he has a perfect right to do ! ” 

“ Why can’t he take some worthless person who is 
no good to any body, and not my angel ? ” 

“He is so good he wants to give those who are 
unprepared another chance. You should be thankful 
that I have a hope of heaven. Let us say the prayer 
now. Please, grandma.” 

“ I can pray all but ‘ Thy will be done.’ I have 
always given up my will to him. I want my own 
way now.” 

“ But God can never take you to his home and 
mine until your will is his.” 

“ I know it ; but this is so hard — harder than giving 
up your mother. I had others when she went ; and 
she could see, and did not need so much of my care 
as you do.” 

“ Suppose I should go to mother to-night and 
should tell her how you and I had repeated the Lord’s 
Prayer together every day since I was old, enough to 
lisp it, and then tell her that you refused to pray it 
with me the very night I died because you were un- 


Little Laura Goes Home. 383 

willing for me to return to her and to receive my 
eye-sight; what would mother say ? Yes, it is hard, 
I know, for I had to pass through what you are now 
suffering. But Jesus left his Father for our sakes ; 
and must not we also expect separations for his sake? 
Please say ‘Thy will be done,’ for my sake, for 
mother’s sake, for Jesus’ sake.” 

“ I can’t speak that, my faith is so weak.” 

“ Ask Jesus to help you say it.” 

“ 1 have ; but it seems as hard.” 

“ Ask Jesus to say it for you. Just mean it. That 
is enough.” 

“ Yes, yes, Jesus knows about the struggle. ‘ O, 
my Father, if it be possible let this cup pass from me; 
nevertheless not my will, but thine be done.’ ” Mrs. 
Rochester brushed the tears from her eyes, kissed 
Jjaura, and said with wonderful calmness : “ It is all 

right now. You are no longer my child. God can 
do as he wills with his own. But how I shall miss 
you from this room!” She looked around at the 
cheerless place. 

“ If I stay mother wont have me in heaven. I 
shall tell her how good you have been to me. After 
I have seen her and Jesus how I should like to take 
one look into this room and see you ! O, do you sup- 
pose I can ? ” 

“ Probably not. But you can surely see me when 
I get to heaven. O, that I might go with you ! 
This tattered, faded dress will then give place to a 
beautiful white robe. I will not then be bent with 
age ; my face will not be all wrinkles ; my hair will 
not be gray, nor my eyes dim, nor my hands rough. 
No, Laura, I would not have you see how old and 


384 


Gems Without Polish. 


‘ homely ’ your grandma is. It will be far better for 
you to first see me when I am done with trouble and 
tears.” 

“No, no, I would rather see you as you are now. 
O, grandma, you have grown old watching over me ; 
you have grown bent working for me ; your eyes 
have grown dim reading for my pleasure and sewing 
to support me ; you have worn cheap clothing that I 
might dress the better. How I would love to see this 
dear, dear hand I am caressing, whose very wrinkles 
I can feel. But God knows you deserve heaven and 
rest if any one does.” 

“ Don’t say any more, Laura ; I can’t stand it. I 
would gladly go through every thing a dozen times to 
know how yon appreciate what I do.” 

“ I do appreciate it more highly than I can tell. I 
am sure Jesus does too. I have always been such a 
care.” 

“ Ah, no ; you have always been my comfort, my 
sunbeam. Had you been strong and well I might 
spare you the easier. How can I bear this trouble ! ” 

“ Don’t bear it. Cast all you care on Jesus, for he 
careth for you. He has taken the fear of death from 
me. I thought I never could speak of death. That 
word has now as precious a meaning to me as the 
name of Jesus. Just think: Jesus has died. He 
kno^ws all about it.” 

“ I wish you would not talk so much about dying. 
It saddens me.” 

“You said it did you good to have me plan about 
going to the country. Isn’t it much better to think 
of going to heaven ? ” 

“ I know I am wrong, but it seems as if I could 


Little Laura Goes Home. 


385 


take as good care of you as Jesus cau. You have 
always been like a babe in my arms ; you have never 
grown old. Just the same sweet child you were 
twelve or thirteen years ago.” 

“Can’t you take me in your arms once more?” 

Mrs. Rochester lifted the frail form very tenderly. 
Laura was as light as a little child. She rested her 
head upon her grandmother’s bosom, where she had 
nestled so often when weary of lying in bed. 

“ Grandma, when I die Jesus will comfort you — 
dear, dear grandma.’ 

“O Laura, you make me think so much of your 
mother. She would have taken such comfort with 
you. When she died one angel left heaven and an- 
other entered it.” 

“ And I shall soon see her, and all the good people 
you read of in the Bible. They seem almost as near 
to me as those who call on me, for I have never seen 
either class. How glad I am to know about the place 
I am going to. It must be so lonesome for those who 
die without Jesus and the Bible. But I have done so 
little for Jesus ; I fear there will not be a single star 
in my crown. But I have never had much chance 
to tell people of my dear Saviour.” 

“ You dear child, we bring many souls to Jesus 
without knowing it. May be the dear Lord keeps 
you from knowing the souls you have won that 
he may surprise you with a crowm just glistening 
with jewels. The ladies who come here have conr 
fessed that you have made them more reconciled to 
their lots. You remember Mr. King said it was as 
grand a work to help keep a soul saved as to be in- 
strumental in saving it. Manv a time the girls down- 


386 Gems Without Polish. 

stairs have stood at this door and jnst gazed at your 
face, you looked so happy. They dared not speak 
for fear you would hear them. The washer- women 
up-stairs have told me how your songs rest them, and 
the beautiful words give them something to think 
about. They have often asked me to leave the door 
open that they might hear you the better.” 

Tears came to the sightless eyes. “ O, grandma, if 
I had only known about this I would have sung more. 
I would have gone up-stairs and sung to the women 
while they worked. Wliy didn’t you tell me ? ” 

“Because I was afraid you would not sing so 
sweetly if you knew that any one but Jesus was list- 
ening to you. Wliy, only this noon Mrs. Perkings 
told me this tenement was a poor place for swear- 
ing and fighting, with ^mur songs floating through the 
house and every child catching them. How could 
you have done more for Jesus ? ” 

“ Of course, I liave done all God wanted me to, else 
he would not take me away so soon. It makes me so 
happy to hear all this ! Don’t you suppose people 
will be telling us such nice things all the time when 
we get to heaven ? ” 

“ Perhaps so ; for not till then shall we know all 
the good we have done in this world.” 

One November day May Lovell received a letter 
from Mrs. Bochester, stating that Laura was very 
poorly and wished to see her. Mr. Lovell carried 
bis daughter to the city the next morning and left 
her at Daisy’s home. 

The two girls went at once to call on Laura, and 
found her alone. They entered the room very softly 
— bare floor, hideous walls, faded curtains, broken 


Little Laura Goes Home. 


387 


furniture — and there on the ragged lounge lay little 
Laura, like some rare flower that had bloomed out of 
place and was dying for want of air and sunshine. 

May advanced to the sofa, took the thin hands in 
hers, and asked, “Do you know me 

“ May ! May ! Is it you ? ” 

“ Yes, Laura.” 

“ You are so good — next to grandma — to me ! Kiss 
me. May. How did you happen to come ? ” 

“Your grandmother sent for me; did not you 
know of it ? ” 

“ Why, no ; I told her I felt sure you would come 
if you only knew how I wanted you. But it seemed 
too much to send for you. Dear grandma wanted to 
surprise me. I wish I had a better home to ask you 
to. But how could you leave your school?” 

“ Aunt Mary promised to help me with my studies. 
Daisy is here,- too.” 

“ Here I am,” said Daisy, taking the hand May 
dropped. “ I am glad May came to see you, for I 
can also have a chance to enjoy her. She belongs to 
us all.” 

“And was so good to come here just to see me. O 
May, I shall never go to the country again. I shall 
see Jesus before you do. May.” 

May was glad that Laura could not see her tears. 
Dear to her as were the themes of heaven and Jesus, 
she now wished to avoid them, so hard was it to think 
of parting with the friend with whom she had passed 
so many happy hours. 

“ All the Knights and Lady’s-Delights send their 
love,” she said. “I want to tell you of the good 
times we have at the castle.” 


388 


Gems Without Polish. 


“ But I am going to a better home than your castle, 
and I shall never have to leave it.” 

‘‘Here are some flowers Jeanie sent you ; they are 
pinks. White ones. Just smell. The Bradleys sent 
you a basket of apples, and mother sent you some 
jellies and honey. All are up at Daisy’s home, but 
we will bring them down.” 

“Every body is so good. The country-week was 
the only pleasure I ever had outside of this room ; 
but Jesus gives me a great deal of comfort here. He 
gives me such peace and rest. Sometimes grandma 
says she wishes I had a nice soft chair to sit in, when 
I get tired of lying on the hard lounge. She doesn’t 
know how Jesus rests me. He is so strong and lov- 
ing. He gives all his time to me, and that is more 
than any earthly friend can do. He does not just 
come in for awhile, and then go off again, as other 
friends do, but is always near. I am never lonesome, 
for I spend so much time in prayer ; yet I should 
think people who live, as you might say, in crowds, 
would be lonesome; that is, if they do not know 
Jesus. Every night as I go to sleep I think that I 
may wake up in heaven. I think heaven will be one 
long country- week. But I have heaven now. To 
die is not merely to be with Jesus — I am with him 
now ; to die is to see Jesus.” 

“ But how can I give you up ? ” sobbed May. 
“ Mamma said you should visit at our house next 
summer. I had planned for so many nice talks with 
you, for you are the only one 1 ever met that seemed 
to think just as I do.” 

“But you were all so good to me last summer! I 
think of the country air and sunshine and birds so 


Little Laura Goes Home. 389 

much. Tlie country-week lias given us such a dear 
friend in Addie. She and the children are to stay 
with grandma always now, and that will take up her 
mind after I am gone. Hereafter the charity ladies 
will hire this rent as Addie’s home. Your new ten 
is to meet here too, isn’t it, Daisy 

“ Yes, by and by. O Laura, I wish I could be as 
happy as you are.” 

“ Why shouldn’t I be happy, since I am so near 
home ! And I shall see then. How few can say, like 
me, that they never saw an unpleasant sight. If 
1 had not been blind I might have been led into a 
great many temptations. Just think how much 
better it is for me to go instead of grandma. Who 
would have cared for me if she had gone?” 

Here Percy and Belle entered the room. 

“ I wants to see the angel that has come for Laura,” 
cried Percy. “ O, it’s only May Lovell ! I’m mad as 
I can be.” 

Come and see,” said May, holding her hand. 

“No, I wont. Nan Colby said an angel with a 
pretty face and white dress had come for Laura, and 
we runned in to see her before she flied away, and it’s 
only you. You aint got any wings at all.” 

“ ’Ess ; and it’s ’most time for the angels to tome 
^or Laura,” put in Belle. “ I telled all the dirls 
’bout it.” 

“ But I have some apples in my pocket,” said May. 

The little ones ran up to her and received the fruit. 

“ O, my apple is sweet ! ” cried Percy. “ I’d rather 
see May than an angel.” 

“ Me, too,” added Belle. 

May stopped in the city for a week, being the 


390 


Gems Without Polish. 


guest of Hortense. She passed most of the time 
with Laura, reading and singing to her. The little 
sufferer would generally join in the songs, except 
when she felt too weak, then she would say : “ My 
heart is singing all the time ; I am so happy.” She 
would ask every morning, ‘‘ O, May, do you suppose 
Jesus will come for me to-day? 

One afternoon Laura wanted her few earthly treas- 
ures brought to her. This being done, she said : 
“ Addie, I want you to have my vases. Please keep 
them tilled with flowers after I am gone, for grand- 
ma’s sake. Percy shall have my box of peppermints 
that Hortie sent. Pve not eaten one.” 

“ Goody ! ” cried the little fellow^, taking the box 
and beginning to feast upon its contents. 

“ The ribbons in this basket were what the ladies 
gave me,” said Laura. “They wanted me to have 
pretty things, even if I could not see them. This 
narrow one is blue. I always wore it Sunday be- 
cause blue was mamma’s color, and we always talk 
about her, Sundays. I want to be buried in that. 
This wide ribbon is red. I always wore that Mon- 
days, when grandma was tired with extra work and 
wanted to see me looking bright and cheerful. I will 
send this to Mrs. Bolton ; may be she wont care for 
it, but I want to show I appreciate what she did for 
me last summer. This long piece is — let me think ; 
pink, yes ; you take this. May. They say pink is a 
beautiful color. I know you can wear it. This rib- 
bon with a notched edge is the white piece that was 
tied with the text- card to the bouquet the Flower 
Mission sent. Gi*andma must have it.” 

As Laura passed the dainty ribbons from one to 


Little Laura Goes Home. 391 

another, they held them very closely, but could not 
speak. 

Isn’t ’oo doin’ to div me anyfing ? ” asked Belle 
mournfully. 

“ Yes, darling. Please bring me my doll, grandma.” 

A beautiful waxen doll was brought from the little 
closet. Laura hugged it to her breast for a few mo- 
ments without speaking ; then said, “ I have not had 
my Florence in my arms for two yeai*s. What lots 
of company slie was when I was alone ! I have sung 
and talked to my Florence for hours. She has slept 
with me so many nights. How good the lady was to 
give me such a nice Christmas-present ! Good-bye, 
Florence. You must take good care of her. Belle, 
and not let her get many falls.” 

The child snatched the doll and danced around 
the room, exclaiming, I’s so glad, I doesn’t no norf- 
ing to do.” 

Laura reached under her pillow for a little worn 
Bible. ‘‘ This is for you, grandma. Mrs. Pierce 
told me how you went with only two meals a day for 
over a week that you might buy me a Bible ; for you 
had heard me say I wanted one of' my own that I 
could hold, yours was so large. Y ou thought I did 
not know of your sacrifice because I could not see 
you when you were eating. I shall tell mother and 
Jesus how faithfully you liave taught me the pre- 
cious words of this book. 

“ I had nearly forgotten my box of mignonette. 
Give that to the little sick Weston girl. May be its 
flowers will cheer her as much as they have me. I 
have always wanted a peep at them, they are so sweet.” 

A few hours later Laura's breath came harder and 


392 


Gems Without Polish. 


harder. A new pallor was in her face. Mrs. Roch- 
ester knew its meaning, and had promised to let her 
know when death was near. She could not speak, 
however, but motioned to May, who knew what was 
meant. 

The young girl leaned over the couch and said, very 
softly, “ Laura, the Lord Jesus is coming for you.” 

A light came into the pale, thin face — a light more 
beautiful than had ever been there before. 

“ Pm so glad. Good-bye, grandma ! You will come 
soon.” 

‘‘ I can’t say it ! I can’t say it ! O, my darling ! ” 

‘‘But, grandma, there will be no good-byes in 
heaven ; it will be good-morning there all the time. 
Good-bye, May. Yes, this is your hand that is in 
mine. I can always tell it. Always be a friend to 
grandma. Where is Addie? ” 

Addie drew near to the couch. 

“ Good-bye, Addie. Try to take my place, and 
don’t let grandma work too hard. May be Jesus is 
taking me home because you need her care more than 
I do.” 

“ I wants to tfss ’oo dood-bye,” said Belle, lifting up 
her sweet baby face. “ Tiss mamma for me ; take 
her vis Power. It’s the pink May brought. ’Tis all 
faded ; but it will be pretty soon’s it dets to heaven. 
’Go never ^vent anywhere ’thout being led. Who’s 
doin’ to lead ’oo to heaven ?” 

“ Jesus will ; for he only knows the way,” answered 
Laura, wearily placing the faded pink in her breast. 

“It’s my turn now,” said Percy. “Good-bye, 
Laura. I’ll take care of your grandmother when I 
am a man.” 


Little Lauka Goes Home. 


393 


All but Mrs. Kochester now withdrew a little from 
the lounge. Laura again took the worn volume from 
under her pillow, and pressing it to her lips, exclaimed, 
“ Precious book, good-bye. I shall not need you any 
more, for I shall be with Jesus. ‘Lo, I am with you 
alway, even unto the end of the world.’ Yes, Jesus 
has kept his promise. I abide in him so sweetly ; so 
sweetly ! ” 

Mrs. Rochester took the little hand in hers. 

“Yes, grandma, I want to die with my hand in 
yours. This dear, dear hand has led me so gently ; 
has smoothed my pillow so often ; has grown old 
working for me. Dear old hand, good-bye.” She 
kissed the wrinkled hand wliile her tears fell upon it. 

For a few moments no one spoke. Laura’s breath 
grew shorter and yet more short. A smile came to 
her face ; a brighter light. Her lips parted. “ I see 1 
I see! Yes, it is Jesus ! ” The little white hand lay 
lifeless in the brown wrinkled palm. 

Mrs. Rochester could voice but a single word of 
prayer. She buried her face in the pillow and moaned, 
“Jesus! Jesus!” 

“ I did not think it would be so beautiful,” said 
May, as she smoothed back tlie fair locks from the 
white brow. 

“Why doesn’t Laura speak to me? and what ’oo 
crying for ? ” asked Belle. 

“Hush, pet; Laura has gone to talk with Jesus 
and to be happy forever.” 

“ I’d not cry if she is happy.” ' 

“ I wish her mother could see her now,” said Mrs. 
Rochester, after a few moments. “ How lovely she 
looks ! ” 


394 


Gems Without Polish. 


“ Don’t you suppose her mother now sees her in a 
more beautiful form?” 

“ Yes, yes. I will never call myself poor again, 
now that I have given heaven such a gift as my 
Laura. But I wish she bad mentioned her mother’s 
name.” 

“ 1 suppose she could only think of J esus at such a 
time.” 

“But this brings her mother’s death back to me. 
Poor woman ! she had a heap o’ trouble all her life — 
hard work and a drunken husband. He died a year 
after she did. The day she went she put her child- 
only a week old — in my arms and said, ‘ She belongs 
to Jesus now ; don’t ever let her get away from him.’ 
And I have not. Why, Laura never did a single 
wrong thing in her life. Then there was no one for 
her to call mamma ; so the first word I taught her to 
speak was Jesus ; and O, that was her last word too. 
But if she only had mentioned her mother. I have 
just given her back into her arms as she put her in 
my arms that day.” 

The pearly gates of heaven opened to one of Christ’s 
own, who first opened her eyes in Paradise, there wel- 
comed by angel songs. She had never seen earth’s 
sunshine ; the glory of that city that hath no need of 
the sun now burst upon her. She had never gazed 
on the fields and trees and flowers of this world ; the 
sweet fields of Eden with their verdant trees and 
fadeless flowers now spread before her. She had 
never looked on a human face ; she now beheld the 
illumined countenances of the glorified, ten thousand 
times ten thousand, and thousands of thousands. He 
whom alone she knew of all the myriad throng led 


Little Laura Goes Home. 395 

her to one of the fairest of the redeemed, who had 
long been waiting for her child. 

Laura was buried two days after her death. She 
was laid out in a soft gray cashmere that Mrs. Brad- 
ley had made for her during tlie country- week. The 
pale-blue ribbon was at her throat ; also a spray of 
mignonette, her favorite flower. In her hand were 
some of Jeanie’s pinks; hidden among the others, the 
one Belle was to send to her mamma. 

The delicate flowers usually seen at funerals were 
wanting. There were no wealthy friends to provide 
them ; but nature had furnished her fairest — the 
Brown ville boys and girls had sent them — the old- 
fashioned garden flowers, that Laura had loved to 
gather, and the gay autumn blossoms, golden rod, 
frost flowers, and such, that took the gloom of death 
from the little room. 

Many had gathered to take a last farewell of their 
little blind friend — children, whose joys and sorrows 
she had often shared ; rough washerwomen and 
seamstresses, whose lives had been softened by her 
sweet influence ; rude men, who wanted one more 
look at the patient face they had seen so often at 
the window. The pastor’s remarks were from these 
words: “Whereas I was blind, now I see.” The 
songs that were sung were those that Laura had loved 
to sing. Who knows but this angel child was also 
singing them in her heavenly home ! 


396 


Gems Without Polish. 


APPENDIX. 

FRESH AIR SOCIETIES. 

“To one who has been long in city pent, 

’Tis very sweet to look into the fair 
And open face of heaven, to breathe a prayer 
Full in the smile of the blue firmament.” 

In 1876 Pev. W. C. Gannett, having read of a Co- 
penhagen professor who sent parties of poor Danish 
children to the country during the summer months, 
believed that a similar work might be accomplished in 
Boston, and entered upon it atonce in a private manner, 
one hundred and sixty children being sent out the first 
year. Leaving the city two years later, he induced Mr. 
Baldwin, of the Boston Young Men’s Christian Union, 
to still carry on this “ country- w'eek,” under whose 
care it is at present. 

We quote the following from one of its earliest 
reports : 

“ The mothers, talking the matter over, preferred 
to organize one large ‘ home ’ for the purpose. This 
the}’ did in Arlington and Waltham by taking an 
empty house, lending or buying the cots, tables, mugs, 
and so on, needed to cheaply furnish it, placing some 
one in charge, and then arranging a series of weekly 
committees or of day-by-day providers to look out for 
the children’s dinners and their good times. In Ded- 
ham they engaged two kindly families, already estab- 
lished, to undertake the hostship with their aid. The 


Appendix. 


397 


Arlington House offered to receive three sets of six- 
teen visitors, each set for a fortnight ; the Dedham 
House to receive sixteen (or rather twelve and four, 
the girls and hoys apart), for a fortnight, and that at 
Waltham two sets, one of seven, one of eight, these 
also for a fortnight each.” • 

The Arlington House received 139 guests one year. 
A party once went to this home composed almost 
entirely of colored children. For four or five seasons 
a house at Wellesley, under a careful matron, was 
opened to poor mothers with young children, some 
partial invalids. This home was given up in 1886, 
and its usual inmates boarded on farms. 

This society usually sends children to towns within 
twenty or thirty miles of the city. When board is 
required, four dollars per week are paid. During the 
season of 1887, including the months of July and 
August, 2,759 persons were sent to country homes in 
various parts of New England, each of the six States 
receiving some. 

The Boston City Missionary Society also engages 
in this work. In 1880 a gentleman gave to t]ie soci- 
ety twenty dollars to purchase street-car tickets for 
poor children, that they might enjoy a ride to the 
suburbs. This was the beginning of the Fresh air 
Fund which, in 1887, sent 7,252 persons to the coun- 
try, either on day excursions or for a visit (invited, 
never boarded), and distributed 51,730 street-car tick- 
ets and 6,231 harbor tickets. For twenty-five dollars 
one hundred persons can be given a day’s outing. 

A charitable lady, in memory of a sweet babe taken 
to the heavenly country, has recently bought sev- 
eral acres of land in Eliot, Maine, and erected thereon 


398 


Gems Without Polish. 


a summer home for the poor, to be known as Rose- 
mary Cottage. This property is to be placed in the 
liands of three trustees, members of the city mission. 
Rev. D. W. Waldron among the number. The cottage 
will probably be opened this summer (1888), provided 
sufficient contributions be received for furnishing. 

In 1887 a series of six excursions was given to 
six thousand poor children of Boston, all under ten 
years of age. Mr. D. L. Weeks, the manager, was 
assisted by a corps of about one hundred ladies and 
gentlemen. 

The Children’s Country- Week Association, of Phila- 
delphia, was started in 1876; incorporated in 1882. 
The by-laws require the following committees: on 
finance, on transportation and free excursions, on 
boarding-houses, on office and supplies, on publica- 
tion, on forming country committees, and on sea-shore 
work. 

Children and adults are sent to the country as 
guests or boarders for one week. The boarding- 
houses, thirty-five in number, are the homes of well- 
to-do farmers, and are selected after careful examina- 
tion by the managers. Children of the same age and 
character and sex (except in the case of brothers and 
sisters) are sent to the same place. During the sum- 
mer of 1887 one or more adults were located in each 
neighborhood where there were boarding-houses, to 
visit the children and give them such attention as the 
boarding-mistress could not possibly furnish. This 
feature is to be repeated in 1888. Invalids are re- 
ceived at several summer convalescent homes. The 
Evening Bulletin and Ledger receive contributions 
for this association. 


Appendix. 


399 


The Home of the Merciful Saviour for Crippled 
Children (Philadelphia) has a summer-home at Key 
East. Perhaps no class of children enjoy the open 
air as the crippled children. Some, however, could 
not be moved, and were obliged to remain in the city. 
The guests of the neighboring hotels do much toward 
supporting this home, and take great interest in the 
little unfortunates. The proprietor of one of the 
stage lines gives them a daily ride to and from the 
ocean gratuitously, also on Sundays to the Episcopal 
Tent, where they form the choir, and one little boy is 
organist. 

The Tribune Fresh-air Fund (Hew York) began 
indirectly with Eev. Willard Parsons in 1877, when 
he induced the people of his parish at Sherman, 
Penn., to open their homes to nine boys and girls 
from the city. Other children were afterward sent, 
making in all sixty. The next year Mr. Parsons re- 
signed his charge, and has ever since given his whole 
time to the Fresh-air Fund, which was carried on 
under liis management by The Evening Post until 
1882, when the work was transferred to the Tribune. 

The children are selected by Christian workers 
connected with over one hundred different missions 
and charitable organizations of Hew York and Brook- 
lyn. Twelve physicians gave their services last year 
(1887), and examined each child to see that it was in 
proper health to be received into any home. Tliese 
children are received as guests, not boarders. The 
average distance to wliich they are sent is two liundred 
and sixty miles. In 1887, 7,748 little ones were given 
a fortnight’s rest in the country, at the average cost 
of $2 94 per child. 


400 


Gems Without Polish. 


The contributions for that year were received 
from 1,202 sources, and the receipts amounted to 
$29,165 28, including a balance of $285 55 from the 
preceding year. Expenses, $22,783 35. The money 
was given without any begging from the jiaper. All 
came in response to one statement made early in the 
season, telling that the work of the Fresh-air Fund 
would be continued. 

The Children’s Aid Society of New York sent some 
ten thousand persons to its summer and liealth homes 
during the season of 1887. Its summer home for lit- 
tle girls at Bath, Long Island, is the outcome of a sim- 
ilar home opened on Staten Island by a benevolent lady, 
who in 1883 assigned its management to this society. 
Four thousand dollars was raised, and a new home 
founded at Bath. During the fourth week of July 
there are day picnics, to this home, for boys. Here are 
numerous attractions for the young people ; fine bath- 
ing, swings, a merry-go-round, and a camera obscura. 
A cottage is to be opened at this place this summer 
for crippled (not diseased) children. During the sec- 
ond week of July (1887) over one hundred mothers, 
with their sick children, who had come to the Health 
Home at West Cone}" Island, were returned for lack 
of accommodations. Some begged with tears to re- 
main, saying they would be willing to sleep in the 
sand. 

St. John’s Guild furnishes fresh-air privileges to 
many through its Floating Hospital, and its Sea- 
side Nursery at New Dorp, Staten Island. During 
the summer months of 1887 this Floating Hospital 
carried nearly twenty-four thousand sick children and 
their mothers. This has a kitchen, with ice-house. 


Appendix. 


401 


pantry, and all conveniences. A warm, wholesome 
meal is furnished free at noon to between three hun- 
dred and four hundred persons at a sitting. Fresh 
milk is furnished for the children. JS^ine hundred and 
sixty-two sick children and mothers were received at 
the nursery during the year. xAt times the passage- 
ways had to be tilled with beds and cribs to accom- 
modate the applicants. 

Too much cannot be said in praise of the Work- 
ing Girls’ Vacation Society of New York. This so- 
ciety provides a two weeks’ vacation in the country at 
the low rate of $1 50 per week (including fare and 
board). Those who can afford to do so are requested 
to pay full board, $3 50 per week. It pays traveling 
expenses, in part or in full, for such girls as wish to 
visit friends or relatives in the country but cannot 
afford to go to them, and it also furnishes six day- 
excursions to Glen Island for such as cannot leave the 
city for a longer period. No applicant can receive 
these privileges until some responsible person has 
vouched for the integrity of her character. 

The Hartford (Connecticut) Fresh-air Fund orig- 
inated in 1877, under the auspices of Mrs. Virginia 
T. Smith, the city missionary, in whose hands it is at 
present. During the first year 19 poor children were 
sent to the country for a visit, many of the farmers 
carrying them to and fro in their own teams. In 1886 
470 persons enjoyed the benefits of this charity, either 
as visitors or boai-ders. The City Missionary Society 
owns a summer home for poor children, known as 
Sunrise Cottage, and situated at West Hartford. A 
piano was lately given .to this home. 

One year the members of the sewing-school took 


402 Gems Without Polish. 

outings by car or rail every four weeks. Simple les- 
sons in botany were taught to those poor girls, who 
had not known before the name of a single field 
flower. They on one occasion all carried pillow-slips 
and filled them with ‘‘ life everlasting.’’ 

The Fresh-air and Convalescent Aid Society of 
Cincinnati was started in 1873. It engages farmers 
to take certain numbers of men, women, and children 
(not more than six adults), paying $1 50 per week for 
children under 12 years of age; $1 75 for those be- 
tween the ages of 12 and 14, and $3 for all over 
14, including adults. From 16 to 18 farms were used 
in 1877. No one is sent to the country without being 
first visited, and all are visited at the farms by the 
secretary. Miss Alice Washburn, every two weeks, 
this being the usual length of the visits, except in case 
of sickness. This society has been so well sustained 
by voluntary contributions (not a single dollar has ever 
been solicited) that it is called ‘ The Pet Charity of 
Cincinnati.’ It hopes to have a Convalescent Home 
this summer, if means will permit. 

The country- week work of Pittsburg, Pennsylva- 
nia, is under the direction of the Pittsburg Associa- 
tion for the Improvement of the Poor. This society 
owns Oaxmont Sanitarium, the gift of Mr. J. B. D. 
Meeds. It was furnished by Mrs. A. W. Book, and can 
accommodate twenty-five at once. Applications were 
so numerous that additional boarding-houses have been 
obtained. One year one of the city pastors visited 
the farmers of two different localities and induced 
them to entertain the city children, which they did 
without pay ; twelve were received at one locality, 
thirteen at the other. 


Appendix. 


403 


The Fresh-air Fund of Chicago is under the direc- 
tion of the Daily News. In the early part of the 
summer of 1877 this paper published a series of 
articles describing the sufferings of the poor of the 
city during Ihe hot months. One, by a lady physi- 
cian, challenged the Charity Organization Society to 
enter upon tlie work of the country-week. A mem- 
ber of The Cliicago Flower Mission had also made 
a similar suggestion in another paper, stating that she 
knew of several farmers who would gladly open their 
homes to the little waifs. Mr. W. Alexander John- 
son, the secretary of the Charity Organization Society, 
wrote at once to the editor of the News^ offering his 
experience, gained from country-week work in another 
city, also the assistance of his agents and visitors. 
In a few days the News started its Fresh-air Fund, 
heading the list with a generous gift ; and funds soon 
flowed in from others. 

It had been thought that the Lakeside Sanitarium 
on Twenty-flfth Street could not be opened for lack of 
necessai’y means. For four years it had received from 
seven hundred to eight hundred babies each summer. 
Now, having been partly destroj^ed by storm, one 
thousand dollars were needed for repairs, etc. Every 
day sad, weary women would come with their sick and 
dying babes to tlie door of the former supporter of 
the sanitarium to see if it was to be re-opened. One 
infant died in its mother’s arms as she sat in the pa- 
vilion. These poor creatures seemed so worthy of 
help tliat the Daily News bade the head nurse again 
open the sanitarium, promising to be responsible for 
all outlay. It was opened June 30. Omnibuses were 
sent for those who could not pay car fare. The News 


404 


Gems Without Polish. 


offered to receive at its office cribs, perambulators, 
out-grown garments, and toys, which two express 
companies carried free to the sanitarium. During 
one week a total of 1,583 mothers, infants, and chil- 
dren were admitted and fed at this building. 

Perhap we might here mention the Thomas Wilson 
Sanitarium, a summer home for the sick children of 
the j)oorer classes of Baltimore. Mr. Thomas Wilson 
was told, a short time before the death of an infant 
son, that the only chance for saving the child’s life was 
a day in the country. The little one was much re- 
vived by its outing, yet died soon afterward. The rec- 
ollection of that day was so impressive that when Mr. 
Wilson died, in his ninety first year, in 1879, he be- 
queathed five hundred thousand dollars to be used in 
establishing this sanitarium. The trustees chose as its 
site Mount Wilson, a tract of one hundred and seventy 
acres, about ten miles out of Baltimore. Buildings 
were erected for day-excursionists, also for those 
whose illness required a longer stay. There are five 
excursions weekly — from Monday to Thursday inclu- 
sive — for white children and their mothers ; on Friday 
for colored excursionists. S pecial trains leave the city 
7 A. M., and return at 6:45 P. M. Tickets are dis- 
tributed by the city physicians. 'No medicine is pre- 
scribed at the sanitarium except when really needed. 
Quiet, fresh air, wholesome food, proper care, and 
rested mothers are the only relief the babies require. 
Some of them are so frightened at receiving their first 
bath in the bath-room that this feature must often be 
dispensed with. Some of the poor, ignorant moth- 
ers, also, are opposed to bathing their little ones. In 
1887 4,315 children and 3,055 mothers were received 


Appendix. 


405 


as day excursionists, and 115 children and 80 mothers 
remained at the sanitarium an average of four days 
each. Of all the children received, comparatively few 
were over five, while sixty per cent, were under two, 
years of age. 

Much has been done in the way of private fresh- 
air work for the poor. The families that desire to 
have the same guests year after year invite them pri- 
vately to their homes, after the first season, without 
consulting societies. We have heard of a gentleman 
.who quietly boarded a poor family out of town for 
the whole summer. Senator Cattell once invited 352 
city children to his country home at Merchantville, 
N. J. A Philadelphia gentleman devised a plan by 
which fifty mothers who could not leave home over 
night might spend the day with their infants at Fair- 
mount Park. Transportation and refreshments were 
free, and lady attendants were at hand. A lady in the 
same city started a self-abnegation society at the be- 
ginning of Lent, 1885. She often found among the 
members of her Bible-class for working women a 
weary mother in need of rest and change. She 
would send another member to take care of the babies 
while the worn-out mother enjoyed a day’s outing. 

One Memorial Day, not long ago, twenty-one poor 
women, of sufficient intelligence to appreciate the 
favor, were invited to pass the day at Longfellow’s 
home, Cambridge. The stories connected with the 
house were told and its curiosities displayed. A lunch 
was spread for the guests on the back piazza. The 
neighbors sent in flowers, and the women were driven 
to Mount Auburn and placed these flowers on the 
poet’s grave. 


406 


Gkms Without FolicH. 


Mr. Leech worth, Chairman of the State Board of 
Charities of New York, has built a capacious house 
upon the grounds of his beautiful summer residence 
near Portage Falls, N. Y. This building is to ac- 
commodate the poor and unfortunate from the city. 
It was once open for a month to eight orphans from 
a Catholic asylum in charge of two “ sisters.” He 
also extended an invitation to the Charity Organiza-’ 
tion Society of Buffalo to send for two weeks four 
poor women and sixteen children, to whose entertain- 
ment he was willing to dev^ote his valuable time. 

Every summer Miss A. Einstein entertains at her 
country home at Stamford, Conn., some of the little 
girls under the care of the Board of Belief of the 
United Hebrew Charities of the City of New York. 
They come in parties of ten, each party remaining 
two weeks. This generous lady even furnishes each 
with clothing to be put on at the beginning and 
doffed at the close of her visit. 

The New York Ecening Post gives an interesting 
account of a log cabin, belonging to one of the sub- 
urban country places, built originally for a play-house, 
but now used as a summer home for the city poor. 
Every pleasant Wednesday, as the proprietor drives 
to his business in the city, his carriage is followed by 
a four-seated i-ockaway conveying just the driver. 
This is to bring to the house the guests, about twelve 
in all — old ladies and children — in charge of some 
charitable worker. As the party arrive at the country 
seat they are welcomed by the hostess, then left by 
themselves in the log-house, which is filled with old- 
fashioned furniture and made as attractive as possible. 
After enjoying dinner and pleasant tramps .through 


Appendix. 


407 


the fields and forests, they are driven liome at four 
o’clock. A new set comes each week — sometimes 
Germans, again Italians, and then a company of Ne- 
gro aunties. 

The Cottage of Good Hope is an old farm-house 
fitted up in a similar fasliion. The guests, however, 
are kept at this home for three weeks. About a 
dozen half-invalid children come at a time, with two 
women, also in feeble health, yet able to care for 
them. The location of this cottage and the name of 
the owner have not yet been given to the public. 

In a postscript to her delightful story. The Saint 
Christopher Club^ published in a July (1886) number 
of The Illustrated Christian WeeJdy^ Miss Mary A. 
Latlibury tells of a tent which was spread at the sea- 
shore for those who were in need of a vacation out of 
the city, yet unable to secure it. These guests were not 
of the poorest class, and most of them preferred to buy 
their own food, which cost from $1 50 to $2 50 per 
week. Each woman could cook her own food if she 
chose, or several could work together. About forty 
persons passed two, three, or four weeks at the tent 
from the latter part of July to the middle of October, 
at a cost of less than forty dollars. The tent gave 
place to a cottage the following year, when seventy 
were received, the total expense being less than one 
hundred dollars. In 1885 fort}?^ came to the cottage, 
the expenses about the same. Miss Latlibury wrote 
lier story hoping it might attract the attention of 
some wealthy person, who would make its suggestions 
realities. Long before the story was published, how- 
ever, she found friends who proved truth to be stranger 
than fiction. 


408 


Gems Without Polish. 


Several foreign countries have fresli-air societies, 
yet America takes the lead. England and Germany 
have each a coniitry-vveek. Paris was the first city to 
establish a sea shore home for children suffering from 
rachitis^ or “ rickets.” The success of this hospital, 
on the English Channel, has induced other European 
cities to establish similar homes. Yery many interior 
Italian cities have a sea-shore home to which to send 
those in need of sea-air. 

This work has taken a private turn in Europe as 
well as in this country. A writer in the Pall Mall 
Gazette suggests that more parties be given to the 
London poor, either in the parks or in the country. 
He argues that his readers must be tired of fashion- 
able gatherings, and would enjoy these “poor par- 
ties.” In honor of the Queen’s J ubilee several thou- 
sand children were given a holiday at the Island of 
Bute ; and a London journal, in spite of opposition, 
arranged an afternoon picnic for several thousand 
needy little ones. The queen rode to the park to 
see them eat their lunch. 

The Archbishop of Canterbury opens the gardens 
of Lambeth Palace twice a week for the benefit 
of the poor of the vicinitjL The author of John 
Halifax^ Gentleman^ used to invite to her country 
home each year a party of children from a blind in- 
stitution. 

The benefits of the country- week are manifold. 
The improved health, morals, manners, and ideas of 
life of the summer guests are too well known to be 
here dwelt upon. The monotony of the country is 
broken up by the annual visit of from twenty to fifty, 
and often of one hundred, city guests. The charitable 


Appendix. 


401) 


workers who solicit entertainment for tlie candidates 
become acquainted with the farmers’ families, and 
when the countiy boys and girls leave home for the 
dangerous city tliey tind in these stanch friends. 

Many prejudices are deadened, for guests are 
received without regard to nationality or religious 
belief. Many wlio engage in this ‘‘polite charity” 
belong to the fashionable circles of society, and might 
not be otherwise induced to labor with the poorer 
classes. Hence the country-week may be the means 
of gradually interesting them in more important 
charities. 

The success of the enterprise lias been largely 
due to the influence of the public press and of the 
churches. 

Many of these fresh-air societies send early no- 
tices to rural papers requesting places for their ap- 
plicants ; while the city papers solicit and receive 
contributions, and publish weekly, and often daily, 
accounts of the proceedings of the country-week. 

The country pastors induce their people to en- 
tertain the children, and generally superintend the 
work. The city pastors receive contributions from 
their parishioners ; and many large churches have pri- 
vate fresh-air funds and summer homes for the poor 
of their Sunday and mission schools. 

The fresh-air societies are supported by collections 
taken at summer hotels, boarding-schools, Sunday- 
schools, charitable institutions, railroad stations, and 
stores ; also by the proceeds of fairs, bazaars, package 
parties, lawn parties, entertainments, concerts, and 
even by pin-wheel sales and magic lantern exhi- 
bitions by the children. Several clubs, and one 


410 


Gems Without Polish. 


deaf and dumb institution, make it a rule to contribute 
yearly to this cause. One little boy collected eighty- 
five dollars for the country-week, and, in another 
place some little girls obtained one hundred dollars. 
A club of little boys connected with a mission-school 
gave a concert, furnished most of the music them- 
selves, and obtained over twenty-three dollars for 
this charity. Twenty-one fairs were held in a single 
season for the benefit of one country-week. Little 
girls, five, six, and seven years old, often give parlor 
fairs with large returns. One boarding-school had 
a mite-box in the music room to gather stray pen- 
nies for this beautiful work. Why could not simi- 
lar boxes be placed in the parlors of summer hotels, 
railroad stations, and steamers? Except in the case 
of one or two societies, where a few expenditures are 
necessary, every cent of the money received is spent 
directly for the children, no salary being paid from 
the funds. Sums from ten cents to two thousand 
dollars have been received. Many of the contribu- 
tions are small— coming from the children— but ten 
times one is ten. Donations of old or new clothing 
are always welcome to the country-week workers, 
who wish to send the children away as neatly 
clothed as possible. The young ladies’ societies in 
different places often make the garments for the can- 
didates. 

The geneses of the fresh-air societies are similar. 
From the very first funds and open country homes 
were readily obtained ; candidates not so easily. 
Parents, believing their children were wanted merely 
to be put to work, refused to let them go. It 
took two or three years of e^^periencQ to persuado 


Appendix. 


411 


them otherwise. Tlie first entertainers of one place 
were disappointed with their little, guests. They 
thought them too neatly dressed and too well behaved 
to be in need of the charity. 

The little ones ai-e more contented in farmers’ 
families than with the wealthier classes who invite 
them to suburban or summer homes. The house of 
one gentleman was kept open during his absence in 
Europe for four sets of children, each group remain- 
ing one week. Several deaf mutes were among the 
number. Another gentleman, in memory of his grand- 
daughter, who had recently died, entertained at his 
home one season seven children, one or two at a time. 
The girls of a school in Connecticut hired and fur- 
nished four rooms in a farm-house for some poor 
working girls from the city, and paid part of tlieir 
board. 

All parties received are of respectable character, 
and free from all contagious diseases. We have never 
heard of a single accident during the country- weekers’ 
travels or visits. All societies take great pains to 
prevent such, as any accident would prejudice people 
against this charity. All applicants are accompanied 
to and from their visiting places by caretakers who 
give their services free while their friends are enjoy- 
ing vacations away from the hot city. 

But the conduct of the children ? Kemarkably 
good concerning all circumstances — so the various 
country-weeks report. The candidates are selected 
by charitable workers who are often well acquainted 
with these little ones. Many of the children have at- 
tended kitchen-gardens, kindergartens, and vacation 
schools, whereby their deportment has been improved. 


412 


Gems Without Polish. 


Some come from well-to-do families which hav'^e known 
better days. The fact that the same children are re- 
ceived year after year by the same family speaks well 
of their general demeanor. However, some of the 
young guests are returned for ill behavior, and their 
places supplied with others. Children from benevo- 
lent institutions give the best satisfaction. The little 
people, removed from the noisy city, are generally 
homesick the first night. Two are easier to care for 
than one, as they entertain each other. Permanent 
homes in the country are often found for some of the 
children. About ten are adopted every year from 
those sent out by the Philadelphia country- week. 
The best children are sent to fill private invitations; 
the most troublesome, to boarding-houses or summer 
homes under the management of the fresh air societies. 
Some of the little ones admitted to these homes have 
never been in the habit of using knife and fork, nor 
of sitting at the table for a meal, nor of sleeping upon 
a bed at night. Their usual repasts consist of a few 
bread crusts eaten at any time or place ; their couch 
is a heap of rags upon the fioor. Some of them 
pounce upon the neat beds of the homes just as they 
are, not even removing their shoes, and are greatly 
surprised when told they must undress before retir- 
ing. The daily devotions, the blessing asked in con- 
cert by the children at each meal, the singing services, 
and Sunday-schools of these institutions all have an 
elevating influence. 

Those sending for country-weekers should state 
how many guests they desire : whether boys or 
girls, women or babies, invalids or persons in 
health; if they are to entertain them free or not 


413 


Appendix. 

(some societies pay no board) ; also give date when 
tliey wish them to come and the desired length of 
tlieir visits. If persons of particular ages, dispo- 
sitions, or trades are requested they can, doubtless, be 
sent at once. 

There is need of more country-weeks. Several of 
our large cities have none. Nearly all the associa- 
tions of tliis kind began in a very simple way. A 
newspaper tiotice, a word from a public speaker, an 
appeal from an individual in behalf of the city poor, 
or the contribution of one person, has often given rise 
to a country-week which now furnishes every summer 
rest to many. When’ tlie minds of one or two 
are set on having a country-week, necessary funds 
and country homes have alv/ays been furnished. And 
steam-boats and railroads have offered free transporta* 
tion. Instead of sending a contribution to some fresh- 
air society out of town, one might just as well plan a 
day excursion for the poor of 'his own place, or send 
a destitute family of his own acquaintance to the coun- 
try. His neighbors will probably follow the exam- 
ple, and before he^s awarejke will find himself the 
founder of a country-week. If' he does not care to 
do this, he can certainly lend his team for a few hours 
to some hospital or poor family ; or when out for a 
drive he can call around for some pinched weary 
child who needs a breath of country air ; or when off 
for a picnic he can, at least, bring back to such parties 
a few wild flowers or berries. 

The secretary of one of the best known of our 
country-weeks writes us in regard to the same : “ I 
think there is growing a need of come concerted ac- 
tion for sake of information, comparison of methods, 


414 G EM3 Without ; Polish, 

etc., so that we may evolve tlie best ways of work- 
ing out our problems.” 

If genius be the seeing of wonders in common 
things, the country-week children are surely all 
geniuses. Unless we knew such to be actual facts, 
we could scarcely believe that some of the little boys 
and girls do not know, until their visit to the farm, 
that apples grow on trees, that potatoes are dug from 
the ground, and that milk is obtained from cows. 

Doubtless many of our readers are connected with 
the Christmas and Easter Letter Mission. Whj^ can- 
not you also write at such times letters to the country- 
weekers who were at your home last summer, as well 
as to strangers among the poor ? It is not only the 
“ healing air,” the green fields, and the rest that 
make the country-week so precious to many of the 
weary ones, but the fact that those in better circum- 
stances have remembered them. Continue to remem- 
ber them. 

The Maine Farmer suggests that there be a city- 
week as well as a country-week. Why not ? There 
are plenty of over- worked women and children in the 
country who need rest and change. Let the city 
homes be opened to such. They can certainly learn 
some useful lessons from these. 


-AtiPEKDIi. 


415 


OPINIONS ABOUT THE FRESH-AIR FUND. 

“ It is one of the true philanthropies.” — William 
Penn Nixon. 

“There are just two elasses of the community who 
should contribute to the fresh-air fund : First, those 
who go away from the city on summer vacations; 
second, those who don’t .” — The Sanitarium News 
(extra sheet of tlie Chicago Daily News, devoted ex- 
clusively to the interest of the fresh-air fund). 

“The expression ‘free as air’ must have been 
coined before the day of great cities with over- 
crowded tenements, stifling coal smoke, sewer gas, 
Chicago rivers, and thermometers that registered one 
hundred degrees in the shade. Tlie fact is fresh 
air in a great city is not free, especially to the children 
of the laboring poor, and they must often do witlnmt 
it ; even dwindle, sicken, and die without it.”— 7^. M. 
Bristol.^ D.D. 

“ Helping others to enjoyment is the healthiest of 
‘ health movements ; ’ for no tonic is so spiritually ex- 
hilarating as the sight of the people’s happiness which 
we have made. The man who sends a child out of 
the city suffocation of summer-time has a poor imag- 
ination if he cannot enjoy the gambols of that child 
in the country meadows and groves as he never en- 
joyed a banquet in his own house. Doing as many 
generous acts as possible is one way to get healtli 
and pleasure out of the summer.”— Chautauguaii. 


416 


Gems Without Polish. 


“It is impossible to estimate the blessings thus 
brought to bear on the darker days succeeding [the 
country-week] ; lives have been strengthened — saved, 
perchance ; minds are clearer, hearts are gentler, be- 
cause God’s people remembered them, and called them 
to rest a while among his works of beauty. Little 
children laugh to remember the grasses, birds, and 
flowers; and those who have helped forward the 
labors of the association are most blessed of all, for 
of such the Master says, ‘ Ye have done it unto me.’ ” 
^The Quiver, 

“ Surely the love of nature is instinctive. Those 
who do not know the commonest facts of country life 
seem robbed of part of their birthright. It is pathetic 
to see Londoners pricking themselves with gorse or 
thistles, or getting stung when gathering nettles, 
through ignorance of such common things as thorns. 
These poor people who are born, live, and die in a 
crowd — are never in their lives, perhaps, ten con- 
secutive moments alone — feel so strongly the in- 
fluence of the quiet country ! ” — The Fall Mall 
Gazette. 

“ The influence of the country-week is in two direc- 
tions: First, it leads to personal contact — the central 
principle of all modern charitable work ; and sec- 
ondly, to circulation — the breaking down of barriers 
between the so-called classes in this country. Cir- 
culation in the great national organization leads to 
Jiealthful, long-continued life.” — M. R. F. Gilman. 

“All the country-week excursions have a healthy 
side of permanent value in the mutual interests they 
create, and in the possibility that a sewing-girl who 
is starving in Kew York may find the open place 


Appendix. 


417 


where she is needed, where there is enough to eat, 
enough to wear, a roof over her head, and God’s air 
to breathe. We have already cited here Lend a 
Hand^) Mr. Frederic Olmsted’s pregnant remark, 
that, important as is the ruralizing of the cities, a 
more important work is before us in the urbanizing 
of the country.” — Edward, Everett Hale. 

“ The sights and odors of the fresh, open country 
wdll live long in the dreams of the children who are 
taken out to be refreshed and revived by them ; and 
they cannot so easily afterward be content without 
cleanliness, which is possible every-wliere. . . . They 
will be better, safer citizens, therefore ; and it is in 
the interest, nay, almost the necessity, of every mem- 
ber of the wealthier class to aid and encourage all 
that can be done toward so important a reform.” — 
Our Homes., Dr. Henry Hartshorn. 

The same objection is sometimes brought against 
the country- week. Will not the having one, two or 
three weeks of farm-house life, running about in the 
fresh air and with the blue sky overhead, make them 
return to their narrow quarters and wretched alleys 
discontented ? . . . This is one of the great hopes in 
this charity, to form a desire in the young, before 
habit has deadened into permanence, to remove from 
large cities .” — National Baptist. 

“ Neither the excursions which are only for a day, 
nor the sea-side homes quite reach the best results. 
What the pinched sufferers in alley- ways and courts, 
garrets and basements, need, is to be sent to the coun- 
try. It is not enough to give them a day on the 
river, though that is good as far as it goes. Even in 
sea-side homes they are housed with children of their 

27 


418 


Gems Without Polish. 


own sort ; they have the same conversation, the same 
plays, the same depressing companionship with disease 
and want. What they need is to meet the healthy 
life of the country ; to make acquaintance with nat- 
ure ; to learn the difference between a calf and a pig ; 
to have a whole new set of objects before their eyes 
and mind .” — The Nevo York Evening Post. 

“ Let every one who looks with apprehension at the 
daily criminal record, and wonders what should be 
done, remember that a very small sum will be one 
means of giving a chance to some child born to all 
evil, whose first sense of something better will come, 
not through school or mission, but through the silent 
teaching unconsciously working in them, through 
every breath of fresh air, every sight of blue sky and 
sunshine and green grass. A country- week may come 
from a very small sum ; but it is an investment on 
which interest is unending .” — Helen Campbdl. 

“If the greater part of the amount usually paid by 
the town for little coffins, and by charitable societies 
for emblems of mourning and other accompaniments, 
and decencies of parental grief, could be massed and 
expended in prevention, by weeks of happy country 
life for the ailing children, the results would be at 
least more cheerful to contemplate.” — Mrs. Virginia 
T. Smith. 


Appendix. 


419 


PAPERS AND SOCIETIES THAT ENGAGE IN THE 
FRESH-AIR WORK FOR POOR PARTIES.* 

Maine, Portland : The Fresh-air Society. Boards 
or secures free entertainment in the country for poor 
children. Furnishes free outings to adults. 

Massachusetts, Boston: The Country-Week of the 
Boston Young Men’s Christian IJnion. Boards, sends 
to visit relatives, or secures free entertainment in the 
country for children and adults. Rides for Invalids. 
Boston Young Men’s Christian IJnion furnishes horse- 
car and carriage rides to the suburbs, and steam- 
boat excursions down the harbor, for the inmates of 
twenty- three charitable institutions and for the sick 
of poor private families. 

The Fresh-air Fund of the Boston City Missionary 
Society. Day excursions, harbor and street-car rides. 
Secures free entertainment in the country for chil- 
dren and adults. Rosemary Cottage, a summer-house 
at Eliot, Maine, to be lirst opened this year (1888), 
provided necessary funds be received for furnish- 
ing. 

Poor Children’s Free Excursions to Lake Walden. 
Partly private guests. 

The Convalescent Home of the Children’s Hospi- 
tal, at Wellesley. Open, from the middle of June to 
the middle of October, to the inmates of The Chil- 
dren’s Hospital. 

* Up to the year 188-7 many of the societies issued special reports 
of work. 


420 


Gems Without Polish. 


Lowell Island Sanitarium, at Lowell Island. Sum- 
mer home for persons of any race, religious faith, or 
class. The gift of Mr. Rindge, of California. Can 
accommodate two hundred persons. 

Rhode Island, Providence : The Dispatch Fresh- 
air Fund. An annual excursion for poor children. 
Union for Christian Work. Fresh-air Outings for 
Iiivalids and Others. Steam-boat, horse-car, and car- 
riage rides for the aged and sick of seven charitable 
institutions and for the unfortunate of private fam- 
ilies. 

Connecticut, Hartford: The Fresh-air Fund of 
the City Missionary Society. Boards or secures free 
entertainment in the country for children and adults. 
Sunrise Cottage, a summer house for children at 
West Hartford. 

Norwich: The United Workers. The Fresh-air 
Fund. Day excursions for the poor. 

New York : The Tribune Fresh-air Fund. Secures 
free entertainment in the country for poor children 
of New York, Brooklyn, and Jersey City. 

The Children’s Aid Society. Summer Home for 
girls at Bath, Long Island. Home for crippled girls 
to be opened at the same place this season (1888). 
Health Home for women with sick children at West 
Coney Island. Day excursions for boys. 

The New York Association for Improving the Con- 
dition of the Poor. Weekly excursions for women, 
children, and a few invalid men. 

Working-girls’ Vacation Society. Provides a fort- 
night’s vacation in suitable and attractive places at a 
low rate to working-girls. Sends them to visit friends. 
Furnishes day excursions. . . 


Appendix. 


421 


St. Jolin’s Guild. Floating Hospital Excursions to 
the Lower Bay for sick children and their mothers. 
The Seaside Nursery at New Dorp, Staten Island, for 
sick children and mothers. 

Charity Organization Society. Bartholdi Creche. 
A day nursery for sick children and their mothers at 
Bedloe’s Island. 

The Society for Ethical Culture. Sends the chil- 
dren attending its Working-men’s School to the coun- 
try for two weeks. 

The Young Women’s Christian Association. Sends 
guests to cottages at Atlanticville, near Long Branch. 
These homes are now self-supporting ; $5 per week 
being charged for board. 

Grace Church. Grace House by the Sea. A sum- 
mer-home for poor mothers and their childreu at Far 
Rockaway. 

All Souls’ Church. (Anthon Memorial.) All 
Souls’ Summer Home at Sea Cliff for poor children. 

St. George’s Clergy. Take children for one 
week to Rockaway. Day excursions three times a 
week. 

Calvary Parish. Summer home for girls under 
twelve years, at Cold Spring Harbor, Long Island. 

Berean Baptist Church. Sends the poor children 
of its Sunday-school, shop-girls, and others to the 
country or to the sea-shore for the day, or for a longer 
visit — often for three months. 

The Church of the Holy Communion. Has a 
home where girls, women, and children are boarded 
at $2 Y5 per week, inclusive of traveling expenses. 

The Church of the Holy Cross, Avenue D. Has 
a summer home for boys. . . 


422 Gems Without Polish. 

Trinity Church. Sends children to Islip, Long 
Island. 

Mount Sinai Hospital. The Children’s Riding Fund. 
Provides rides for the inmates. 

Pennsylvania, Philadelphia : The Children’s 
Country-week Association. Boards children and adults 
in the country, or sends them to fill invitations ; also 
to the Sanitarium, Cape May Point House, American 
Memorial Home, and the Children’s Sea-shore House 
at Atlantic City. Provides for day excursions to the 
Sanitarium, the Park, the Zoological Gardens, and on 
the Delaware and Schuylkill Rivers. 

Home of the Merciful Saviour for Crippled Chil- 
dren. Has a Summer-Home at Key East. 

The First Young Women’s Christian Temperance 
Union. Outing Club. Takes parties of young boys 
every two weeks to Fairmount Park, the Zoological 
Gardens, and to other places of interest. 

Pittsburg : Pittsburg Association for the Improve- 
ment of the Poor, The Country-week. Oaxmont 
Sanitarium, and other Country Homes. Fills private 
invitations for children. 

Maryland, Baltimore: The Thomas Wilson Sani- 
tarium at Mt. Wilson for six children (usually under 
five years of age) and their mothers. 

Ohio, Cincinnati : Fresh-air and Convalescent Aid 
Society. Sends men, women, and children to the 
country for two weeks. 

Kentucky, Louisville,: The Times Fresh-air Fund. 
Annual excursions for children up the Ohio River 
weekly, semi-weekly, and tri-weekly. 

Indiana, Indianapolis : Annual Children’s Day 
of the Benevolent Society. Picnic to woods for poor 


Appendix. 423 

children and their mothers. Fifteen thousand in the 
party of 1887. 

Illinois, Chicago : The Carriage Drive Branch of 
the Chicago Flower Mission. Carriage drives for 
poor and sick. The Daily News Fresh-air Fund. 
“ Lakeside Sanitarium ” for sick children and their 
mothers. Children’s Country-week. 


THE END. 


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